My war ends with you
by Confusious
Summary: A new year. A new story. An old terror.
1. Chapter 1

SAS Headquarters, Hereford, 0700 hours…

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Melissa Morton smacked her hand down on the alarm clock, hoping to break it, but no such luck. She yawned heavily and sat up, running her fingers through her messy light brown hair. She had to get up and get ready for work. At least it was Friday. She sighed and swung her legs over the mattress, standing up and making her way to the shower. She paused to look at one of the photos sitting on top of the dresser against the wall. John "Soap" MacTavish was holding her in his arms tightly to protect her from the cold she so hated, and she was smiling at the camera while he kissed her temple. Melissa couldn't help but smile at the photo. It was taken last month in Hereford town while the troops were relaxing. It was now late December, and Melissa and Soap had been together for eleven months. Late January would make it one year. Soap was currently in Credenhill with his 22nd regiment, training before going on a mission to apprehend another terrorist. He was scheduled to return on Christmas Eve, but it felt like year away instead of three days. He had been gone for the past month with Price, and every day felt like the longest day of her life. Melissa tried to look at the upside. Today was her last day of work before her Christmas leave, and she was looking forward to putting up the tree her grandfather had sent from Arizona. A fake one, of course. Pine tree needles made her skin itch and it also made a mess. He had sent her some family decorations as well. She went into the bathroom and turned on the water, undressing so she could take her warm shower.

While Melissa was under the spray she reflected on the past six months. Most of the high ranking Ultranationalists had been caught and put on trial in Moscow. The events mirrored the trials of the Nazi's in Nuremburg, and were simply called "The Moscow Trials". The best judges of various nationalities made up the panel of four and most of the defendants were found guilty and sentenced to death. Ursa Makarov was yet to be caught and Mac told Melissa that she would most likely be made to testify against her. The idea scared Melissa out of her mind, but she knew it had to be done to put the woman down once and for all. She shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, getting dry and dressed so she could have breakfast.

Credenhill, 22nd Regiment base, 1200 hours

Soap sighed as the hot water hit his skin. They had returned from Egypt only twenty minutes before and it had been a long, hard mission. They had gone after one of Makarov's former advisors who was deceptively clever at disappearing, but Soap had chased him down into a hole, until there was nowhere left to hide. The advisor would be sent to Moscow and be put on trial, and the boys of the 22nd could finally go home in time for Christmas. Soap knew Price was looking forward to see his wife, Trish. And to say that Soap was looking forward to seeing Melissa was an understatement. He missed her everyday while he was gone, and was always thinking about her, wondering how she was before he went to bed at night. This would be their first Christmas together, and he wanted to get home as quickly as possible so he could be with her again. After a few minutes Soap turned off the water and dried down, then tying the towel around his waist and going to the mirror. He needed a shave. He walked to where he left his clothes and got dressed, then went to his quarters so that he could get his electric razor.


	2. Chapter 2

Monday, Hereford, 0900 hours…

Melissa grabbed a mug from the cabinet and started making her green tea. It was Christmas Eve, and Soap hadn't returned yet. But Commander MacMillan did confirm that the 22nd was due back today, before 1000 hours. Melissa felt anxious, like a little kid who wished they could take a peek at their presents. While the kettle was boiling, she looked at the tree. It was decked out in traditional red and white, with lights blinking around the branches. She did a pretty good job. Presents from her family and Soap's sat at the bottom, creating the perfect picture. The kettle finished boiling and she made her tea before sitting on the couch, allowing the mug to warm her hands. She had been up since six am because she was so excited, but the doze was starting to set in so she made anything to keep her awake. After finishing the tea, Melissa still felt sleepy, so she walked back into the kitchen to grab the chocolate she had been eating over the week. She broke off a few cubes and popped them into her mouth before going into the laundry to get the throw blanket she had been washing out of the dryer. She heaved the large blanket into her arms and walked out back to the living room, reminding herself to get more chocolate. She exited the hallway and froze at what she saw.

Soap was standing in the living room, having just come through the front door. He looked a little tired and worn, but happy to be home, smiling when he saw her. He dropped the large bag that was over his shoulder and she threw the blanket on the floor, grinning wildly before running up and jumping on him. Soap caught her with ease, holding one thigh that was locked around his waist with his hand and wrapping his free arm around her torso to support her, burying his face in her neck and inhaling her sweet scent. Melissa stroked the back of his neck, over his revolver tattoo, with her other arm holding his body. She thought he smelt like mud and tobacco, but couldn't care less. He was home. Soap gently set her down and kissed her immediately, pulling her small body against him. She tasted like the chocolate she had been eating earlier, and he was instantly addicted. Melissa moaned in appreciation, holding him as tightly as she could manage. Soap pulled away for air and hugged her again, tucking her head under his chin. She was warm, and he needed as much body heat as he could get. It was freezing outside.

"Welcome home." She said, pressing her body closer, wanting to get all of him.

"It's great to be home." He replied, his voice tired and weary.

Hereford town, 1200 hours…

"Now that's more like it." Soap waved to the bartender for another glass after downing his scotch on the rocks. Melissa had taken him to the bar to celebrate his homecoming and Soap couldn't complain. After being bogged down in a sand pit by bloodthirsty Russians a drink with his beautiful girlfriend was like heaven. It was snowing lightly outside and the streets were decked out in Christmas decorations, with various wreaths and banners hanging from the lamp posts. Melissa was rugged up to the nines. A white beanie sat on her head and she was wearing a blue sweater and jeans, no doubt with several layers of thermals underneath. Her thick padded snow jacket was slung over the chair.

"Easy cowboy, I'm not carrying you if you're drunk." She teased. Soap snorted.

"Last time I checked it's always been the other way around, not usually in drunk circumstances." He said suggestively and Melissa's cheeks went a light shade of red.

"Soap! There you are." Soap and Melissa turned to see Price escorting Trish into the bar. The older man was wearing his warm gear, dressed down from his army fatigues in jeans. Trish was wearing similar clothes to Melissa, shrugging off her heavy padded jacket. Price helped her out of it before taking the seat on Soap's other side while Trish sat with Melissa. It only seemed like a few seconds before a beer materialised before Price. "Merry Christmas." He toasted, holding up his glass. Soap knocked on it with his scotch.

"You too old man."

Soap and Melissa's house, 2200 hours…

Soap walked back into the bedroom after checking all the doors and windows were properly locked. He saw the light from the bathroom glowing under the door and wondered what his girlfriend was doing. She had been in there for thirty minutes. But he heard movement, so she hadn't hit her head and was lying unconscious on the floor. He had turned to walk to bed when he heard the door open, but turned back and did a double take. Melissa was wearing lacy black underwear lingerie. She was standing there with a sultry smile on her face, looking like the cat that got the cream. Soap thought that his prayers had been answered and finally regained enough wits to smirk. He had missed Melissa everyday and she was all he thought about in Credenhill, about how much he wanted to hold her in his arms again. Someone must have been listening after all.

"Someone looks pleased." She said, leaning against the door frame. Soap could hardly believe it. He guessed that's what one month away from your significant other would do to you. Melissa slowly walked up and slid her arms around his neck and stood on her toes so she could kiss him, Soap meeting her halfway. Soap instantly felt the spark he had been missing for the past month and wrapped his powerful arms around her torso, not allowing her any room to escape. Soap kissed her as long as the air in his lungs allowed, but reluctantly parted when the need for air was dire. He felt breathless. Here he was in a stable relationship with a beautiful woman that he didn't deserve, who went out of her way to surprise him tonight. Most men didn't have this luxury, and when he was younger Soap definitely thought he would never find it. But here it was, standing in front of him and enclosed in his arms.

"I love you." he said, looking into her eyes. Melissa smiled a genuine, happy smile.

"I love you too." She replied and he kissed her again, their tongues battling for dominance, Soap's hands running over Melissa's smooth skin and making her shiver. Soap parted ways again.

"You tired?"

"No." she replied, raising a brow.

"Good, because I don't plan wasting our time together sleeping." He smirked, crushing her lips with his once more before pushing her to the bed.


	3. Chapter 3

Christmas Day, 0530 hours, Melissa's house…

Soap's internal alarm buzzed much to his annoyance. He grunted as he stretched out the kinks in his muscles, but paused mid-way. Melissa's side of the bed was empty. It was cold, which meant she been gone a while. He focused and managed to hear noise coming from the kitchen area. He slowly rose up and rubbed a hand over his face, trying to rub the sleep out of it while he scanned the bedroom for his pants. Soap quickly pulled them on and went into the bathroom to splash cool water on his face before heading into the kitchen, following the smell of bacon. What met his eyes made his mouth drool. Melissa had laid out a large plate of eggs, bacon, mushrooms, sausages and beans at his usual place at the table. A basket of warm rolls sat next to it, along with butter. A pot of coffee and tea also sat between the settings.

"Merry Christmas sunshine." She grinned at him, walking out of the kitchen with her slightly less loaded plate. She had pulled on an AC/DC shirt and loose pants and left her long brown hair out, making the testosterone in Soap's body spike again. He walked over to the table and pulled her small frame into his arms once she had set her plate onto the table, planting a firm kiss on her lips. He could feel her trying her best not to smile as she responded eagerly, running her hands over his broad shoulders. Soap was debating between eating and taking her back to bed when his stomach gave off a loud rumble. Melissa broke the kiss and laughed. "Someone's worked up an appetite." She teased, poking his side.

"Not really." He tried, but she laughed and pushed his chest away, telling him to sit down and eat. He did as she said and poured his tea, adding in two lumps of sugar and milk while she did the same with her coffee. "I wasn't expecting this." He admitted before bringing the mug to his lips.

"You can get what you expected later, if you behave." She winked.

"Are you trying to kill me?" he groaned.

"No, just wind you up." He shook his head and dug into his food.

"This is a proper breakfast. Price would be proud."

"Trish taught me a thing or two about a proper English fry-up. She said that the best way to a man's heart is through bacon."

"Explains why we've been together so long." Melissa laughed at his comment.

"I love it, John! How did you know?"

"Contrary to what other people say I pay attention." He deadpanned as she pulled the leather jacket out of its box. He had it especially ordered from America and had to cover his tracks to make sure his girlfriend didn't catch on about what he was up to when they had visited her family in October. All of the presents they had under the tree had been opened, leaving bright paper and ribbons scattered around the floor, while they were out if the way of the mess on the couch. They had each gotten various items from their families, from sweaters to books. But it was the box Soap _hadn't_ put under the tree, but was rather burning a hole in his pocket, that was making him nervous. It was also a gift he got in America, and he had to be even more clandestine about it than the jacket. He went through great lengths to get it, which he hoped he wouldn't have to do again.

"Honey, what's wrong? You look a little nervous." Soap looked at her to see that she was gazing at him with concern.

"I am a little bit. I have one last thing to give you."

"John, we agreed only one present -"

"But this one is something that I really hope you'll like." That stopped her protests and he could see that it quipped her curiosity. He pulled the small, wrapped box out of his pocket and passed it over to her. Melissa took it gingerly and tore away the white paper, stopping when she saw the trademark colour of Tiffany & Co. She raised her brow, but Soap kept his poker face. Melissa's heart started beating too fast when she realised what the box might contain. It was small and square, large enough to be…her pulse pounded in her ears when she tugged at the ribbon and pulled the cover off…her breath caught in her throat when the solitaire diamond sparkled in her face. Melissa jumped a little when Soap's large fingers pulled the ring out of the box, and she looked just in time to see him sliding off the couch and onto one knee. The blue eyes she never got tired of seeing gazed into her hazel ones as he started. "I love you so much, Melissa, and I know that now might not be the right time, but it might never be. The world is a little uncertain at the moment, but I'll never be uncertain about you. I want to wake up next to you every day, make love to you every night, have children and grow old with you. Will you marry me?" Soap's speech knocked the wind out of her. He was right about it not being the right time, but also right in that the right time might never come. Melissa knew that she wanted everything he just described with him, and no-one else. She looked at the ring he was holding out to her and then back into his eyes.

"Yes." she could feel the tears dropping out of her eyes and Soap's face broke out in a huge grin. She presented her hand and he slipped the ring on her finger, where it sat perfectly. In no time at all his lips were covering hers, and Soap felt the cold metal of the ring press into his face.

"You've made me the happiest man in the world." he laughed "I asked for your father's and grandfather's permission while we visited them, before I got the ring. It was the scariest thing I had ever done."

"I believe you." Now Melissa knew why her grandfather looked a little happier during her visit, and Soap had taken him aside, along with her father, during the day. "You've made me the happiest girl in the world. After what Vladimir and Ursa did to me, I didn't think I'd be able to function enough to have this."

"Don't think about them. It's just you and me."

Melissa winced as Lorraine's squealing shattered her eardrums. She and Soap had gone to her office to access the "Melissamatron" computer in order to say Merry Christmas to her family in Arizona, and announced the news straight away. Now she was wishing she hadn't. And by the similar looks on her father's and grandparents faces, they agreed.

"This is wonderful, our baby is getting married!" Lorraine clapped her hands together. "This calls for champagne!"

"It's eight o'clock in the morning." Mona, Melissa's grandmother, pointed out.

"Still calls for celebration!" Lorraine's French accent became thicker as she got more excited "Melissa, John, do you want anything?"

"We're in a computer, Lorraine." Melissa answered, leaving her former nanny to bustle away to get the champagne.

"Your mother would be so happy, little one." Aleksey said with a smile on his face "As I am."

"Thanks Dad."

"It looked like your grandmother wanted to start the wedding planning right then and there." Soap teased as they walked back through the door of the house. Melissa shook her head and unwrapped the scarf around her neck.

"I'm still getting over the shock of it all. I'm not used to my hand feeling so heavy." She stared at the diamond on her finger. It was a half-carat bauble set in yellow gold, contrasting nicely with her tanned skin, albeit looking a bit paler after living in a place with little sun. Soap slid his arms around her from behind and leaned down to kiss the skin behind her ear.

"You know, we haven't really celebrated yet." His deep, rough voice rumbled in her ear. Melissa felt her lips spread into a smile against her better judgment.

"A drink, then?"

"Maybe after." She shrieked in surprise when he knocked her legs out from under her so that he could carry her away easier. He only got to the hallway before there was a knock on the door. Soap was fully intending to ignore it but Melissa poked his chest.

"Honey, Price and Trish are here for lunch, remember?" she asked. Soap groaned in response. He had completely forgotten between the proposing and telling Melissa's family. He begrudgingly set her down gently and she ran to get the door. Trish gave Melissa a quick kiss before she noticed the diamond on her finger.

"OH MY GOD! John! Look at this!" Trish was pulling Melissa's hand right up to her face, as if she couldn't believe the ring was real. "Did he -"

"He most certainly did." Melissa grinned. Price slapped Soap on the shoulder.

"Finally, son, I thought I'd be dead by the time you proposed."

"It's only been three months since I told you." Soap tried to defend himself.

"This calls for a drink! I'll run back to the house and get the '59 I've been hoarding." Price walked out before his protégé could get a word in.

"Madame, the final checks are complete. Shall we light the fuse?"

"No, not yet. Let the world have one more happy day before we remind it of its misery."


	4. Chapter 4

"Remind me to never tell my mother happy news again."

"What this time?" Melissa didn't look up from the program she was running. It was two days after Christmas, and even though she had New Year's Eve and Day off, she still had work to do in between then. Hereford had minimal staff at the moment and Melissa had to work a lot of intel with almost no other techs to help her.

"We only told her the news yesterday and it's like she's trying to plan the wedding in one day." He gave her a quick kiss in greeting "We don't even know where we want to get married yet."

"All in good time. I want to enjoy this blissful feeling of being engaged first."

"And enjoy signing your name as Morton while you can."

"Melissa MacTavish. I like the way that sounds."

"You're not the only one." Soap growled and he attacked the skin of her neck, causing Melissa to squeal and laugh.

"John, I have to get this done!" she tried to protest, but failed between bouts of laughter "Mac wants a report by the end of the day!"

"Forget about him. I want you for lunch." Soap kissed Melissa's lips, making her drop the control tablet, which switched the screen from the data analysis to the news.

"- please be advised, the following video is disturbing." The voice of the news reporter popped Soap and Melissa's bubble as they turned their attention to the screen. Soap's eyes widened in surprise.

"That's Private Frank Conlin; he went missing six months ago. We assumed he was dead after we lost contact with him during his undercover assignment."

"How do you know this?"

"I was there when Mac was given the news."

"He should be watching this." Melissa tore herself from his grasp and walked over to her desk to dial her phone. "Mac? It's Melissa."

"Yes poppet?" Commander MacMillan's Scottish accent came out of the speaker. "I'm in a meeting."

"This is more important. Are you watching the midday news?"

"No – what's going on?"

"Private Frank Conlin." Soap heard silence at first, then another man's voice saying that Conlin was assumed MIA/KIA.

"Okay, we're watching now." Melissa ended the call and went back to her fiancé's side.

"To the men and women of the world." That voice made the blood in her veins freeze and she could see Soap's head immediately turn towards her "You try to put me on display, to humiliate me and burn me, but time and time you have failed." Ursa Makarov came on the screen. She was wearing an expensive dress and heels, which was stark amongst the gritty backdrop of the dirty cell. Private Conlin was tied to a chair and putting on a brave face. There was blood matted in his blond hair and gashes down his face, his clothes ragged and torn, from the looks of it he had taken quite a beating. "And here is another point to add to your tally." She leaned down so her mouth was next to his ear. "Tell them your name." He swallowed and licked his lips.

"Private Francis Conlin, Special Air Service."

"And what were you doing that got you into this position?" Ursa asked in a sickly sweet voice. Conlin's nostrils flared and he turned his face as best he could to see her.

"Fuck you." Ursa said nothing. Rather, she stood up straight and held out her hand. A gun was passed to her and Soap grabbed Melissa, pulling her to his chest so that she wouldn't have to see what he knew was coming. The sound of the gunshot echoed through the office and the screen was spattered with drops of blood. The reporter's voice came back.

"Similar videos of SAS spies being executed by the Ultranationalists have been uploaded to YouTube today, and a request for comment has been ignored." Soap grabbed the control tablet from the floor and turned the news off. He didn't know what to say. But his fiancée filled in the silence.

"We can't get married." His head snapped to her so fast he was surprised he didn't break something. Melissa's hazel eyes were hard, but bore tears. "Not until she's gone."

"Ursa's made a comeback for a reason; she wouldn't have laid low for this long otherwise." Rook said ten minutes later in Melissa's office, where Price Melissa and Soap were being briefed by MacMillan.

"Nikolai's caught up with one of his contacts recently." Price spoke up "Ursa's been burning through money like it's been going out of style, but because we kept taking out her plans, all of it went to waste. She's been staying underground until she can accumulate more so that she can bring the best game she's got."

"And she just played the game-changer with that video." Mac said "MI5 has sequestered the tape from the news company, but it'll take a few days to figure out where it was made. Do Nikolai's sources have any idea where Ursa is?"

"Last place they saw her was Georgia, but that was 48 hours ago. She could be anywhere."

"No use tracking down lukewarm leads. Tell Nikolai to squeeze harder for information, we need as much as we can get. We've lost twelve men in ten hours, and the body count's only going to get higher. I've been contacted by our generals; they're planning to put a new taskforce together. Anything to stop this madness."

"Understood." Mac looked at Melissa, who was sitting at her desk with her face in her hands. His eyes zeroed in on the ring.

"Price told me you got engaged, poppet." That brought her out of her reverie with a startled expression "I never got to say congratulations." He walked over and took her hand so that he could admire the ring "What a time for her to come back."

"What a time indeed." She said lowly, then looked up at him and forced a smile "Thanks, Mac." He smiled back and then turned to Price.

"You three are coming with me to meet the candidates for the taskforce. We've gotten the best men available." Price nodded and followed him out with Rook trailing behind. Soap went to Melissa's side.

"Are you going to be okay here on your own for a while?" he asked. Melissa's looked into his eyes and could see that he was concerned. She grasped the hand that was on her shoulder and nodded.

"I'll be okay. I'll see you at home." She nodded. Soap nodded back and leant down to give her a quick kiss before he walked out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Six days later, 0300 hours, War Room, Hereford…

"Alright, we've gotten word that Ursa has some prime intel in her possession that'll put the nail in her coffin." Mac said in a loud voice. Newly formed Taskforce 142 was standing to attention, hanging onto his every word. It consisted of nine men, including Soap, Price and Rook, coming from various SAS units. Melissa worked the animatronic computer in the room and brought up a visual of –

"A prison?" Price questioned.

"Not just any prison." Mac countered "This one has been defunct and abandoned since the early nineties. It's tucked away in the lovely wilderness of Georgia, 110 kilometres away from Tbilisi."

"It explains the last sighting of Ursa. She was at the prison." Price said. Mac nodded.

"Our surviving spies tell us that she has records of Ultranationalist transactions and other information hidden there. Enough to hang her ten times over. It's the best thing we've got since the tape of Private Conlin's execution was bust. Recent satellite images show that there's activity in and around the prison, meaning that it's guarded. But we also have people there that we need to get out before Ursa gets her hands on them."

"When do we move in?" Soap asked.

"You all leave in two hours. Siren," he gestured to Melissa "and other techs will be accompanying you to retrieve the data we need."

"So we're basically babysitting nerds?" one of the soldiers spoke in distain. Soap turned his head towards him with a look of disgust on his face, which was mirrored by Mac.

"No, Bell, you're not. Their mission is just as important as yours, and for the record, Siren here can blow you away with her aim before you can even blink." Bell's eyes glanced in Melissa's direction. If looks from a woman could kill…

"Hey." Melissa looked up from the tablet she was packing to see Soap standing at the door. She smiled at him.

"Hey. You ready to get out there?"

"Always. What about you? This will be your first op in a few months."

"I'm okay."

"That didn't sound very convincing." Soap countered. Melissa sighed.

"We only had New Year's Day yesterday. It's supposed to be a clean slate, but then Ursa comes back and screws it all up again, with barely a hair out of place. I mean, did you see what she was wearing? She was in Prada in a prison cell!"

"It's not forever." Soap placed a hand the back of her neck comfortingly "And now I have even more of a reason to get her out of the way, if it'll get us to the altar quicker." Melissa laughed, making him smile.

"You're determined, aren't you?"

"You know me, I get things done."

Prison, 110km outside Tbilisi, 0849 hours…

"Nikolai, the prison is clear!" Price cried over the radio as Soap shot the last Ultranationalist in the head "Bring in the techs so that we can wrap this up!"

"Copy, bringing them in now." the Russian replied. He had parked his helicopter 2 kilometres south so that he could bring in the techs when the prison was cleared. It had been a hell of a shootout. There were about twenty men around the prison, guarding prisoners as well as vital areas where the intel was stored. They had lost one man, but the Ultranationalists had lost all of theirs. Melissa had dropped in with Taskforce 142 and was making her way to one of the intel storage areas now, with Rook for backup. Soap supervised the helicopter landing in the main cellblock courtyard, where the other techs bailed out.

"Melissa, have you found what we came here for?" Price asked over the radio.

"Yeah, I have." Her voice rang on Soap's head through his earpiece. "But the files are very well encrypted. There's a safeguard program that acts like a never ending maze if I hit the wrong buttons. I don't think we have the equipment with us to do this properly."

"Do what you can for now and if it doesn't work we'll move out. This place feels off."

"Roger that."

"What do you mean "feels off", old man?" Soap asked. Price's eyes roamed the skies. Birds were chirping in the distance and the orange sunlight was peeking through the clouds.

"It's too peaceful." Was all he replied before walking off. Soap gazed at the same patch of sky. Price was right. He didn't know how or why, but something was wrong. He started to follow Price, but stopped when he saw something flicker out of the corner of his eye.

"We're not expecting another chopper, are we Price?" that stopped the older man dead in his tracks and quickly turn to the horizon. Price's face paled immediately.

"I've been trying to contact them, there is no response!" Nikolai called from his own chopper.

"A second wave!" Price shouted. No sooner had he yelled the words all hell broke loose. Mini-gun fire erupted from the incoming helicopter, forcing Soap to take cover behind the crumbling concrete columns. "All call signs, this is Alpha Zero One! We have hostiles inbound from the north-east!"

"Alpha Zero One, this is Tango One! We have additional hostiles coming from the south west!" another voice shouted over the radio.

"They're boxing us in!" Soap shouted "They were lying in wait!"

"No reason to think why!" Price yelled back "Light them up!" Soap took aim from behind his pillar and shot in at the cockpit of the chopper, but by then it was too late. It had landed several yards away and was pumping out bullets as well as soldiers by the second. All of a sudden, Soap was blinded by several bright lights and felt himself falling to the ground. He saw a man in gear like his running towards him, but that was the last thing he saw before he got hit in the head with the butt of a rifle.

Meanwhile…

"Just our luck." Rook grunted, cocking his gun at the door while taking cover behind the desk. "I knew that this was too easy."

"Well, I always try to remind myself that things could be worse." Melissa said behind him.

"Really? And how's that working out right now?"

"Usually it's pretty good. But then I remember that we're on the run from bloodthirsty Russians, my father's psychotic ex-wife wants to kill me and I'm hiding in a hole."

"That's more of the spirit." He heard noise outside the door and lifted his finger to his lips. Melissa nodded in response. Suddenly, the door was kicked in, followed by a grenade. Rook and Melissa faced away from it, but saw light behind their eyelids as the flash bang went off. Rook stood and shot the soldiers in the doorway, but another flash bang exploded, blinding them. Melissa heard Rook grunt and fall heavily to the ground as one of the Ultranationalists knocked him out. It was a second later before the gun was twisted out of her grip and a punch met her cheek. She cried out and fell the floor.

"Wait!" she heard one of them yell in Russian "She's the one! Let's get out of here!"

"Roger." The one that hit her grabbed her forearm. Melissa struggled, trying to kick him but he evaded her blows "Oh ho ho, feisty little thing, aren't you?"

"Go to hell." She spat back in Russian. She could see his eyes narrowing and a second later a sweet smelling cloth was placed across her mouth and nose. Melissa knew what it was and panicked, but the soldier was too strong, pinning her to the floor and holding her there until she felt herself going to sleep against her will.

Pounding. Soap's head was pounding. And heavy. He groaned, but he couldn't hear himself do it. The icy bite of the ground was unpleasant against his cheek, and he tried to lift his head. He opened his eyes and the world slowly came into focus. He was still in the courtyard, with other members of his squad lying around him. Movement. There was movement out of the corner of his eye. A group of five soldiers walked out of the prison and into his view. They were well dressed for the cold weather and carried impressive weapons. But he noticed one of them was carrying a heavier load compared to all of the others. He saw the brown hair plaited into her signature fishbone braid, and her head falling back, muscles slack with unconsciousness. He tried to call out her name, but his vocal chords refused to work. The same with his muscles. All Soap could do was watch as the Russians carried his fiancée to their awaiting helicopter, and take off within the minute. Soap could only think the same thing over and over again; his worst nightmare was now a reality.


	6. Chapter 6

Hereford, 1341 hours…

Mac was furious. By the time Price had explained what had happened, the older Scotsman had gone red in the face and was swearing every known expletive in the book. Price had told him what had happened to the best of their ability. They had landed at the prison, they were ambushed. Three of the remaining eight taskforce members were killed. Melissa was the only one that had been taken, and a note had been left in her place at Rook's side, signed by Ursa Makarov;

_Another strike to the tally_

That was all it said. The data they had come for was gone, the drives in the computers taken and all other hardware was destroyed. The only upside was that Taskforce 142 had rescued all of the prisoners. But Soap didn't care about that, he was certain about one thing; Ursa had this all planned. Let it purposefully slip that she had left behind some valuable intel, knowing that Melissa would be assigned to process it, sacrifice the soldiers guarding the prison, and lie in wait until they were all right where she wanted them.

Rook was sporting a couple of nice bruises to the face, one thanks to the Ultranationalist that took Melissa, and the other from Soap. Soap was now back at the house he and Melissa shared after having a blowout fight with Mac about their next course of action, which ended in Price ordering him to walk away and cool off. Now the vase of peach roses Melissa had left on the table was smashed into pieces on the ground, creating a mess of ceramic, water and rose petals all over the floor. Soap poured another scotch and downed it in one gulp before throwing the glass on the floor.

"My god." He whirled around to see Trisha Price standing in the hallway. He didn't even hear her come in. Her green eyes were wide with shock, her pale skin a bright pink from being out in the cold. Her red hair was coiled into a neat bun at the back of her head.

"How long have you been standing there?" he asked, his voice rough. Trish regained her wits.

"A few seconds." She took a few tentative steps into the living area "John called me, told me what happened. I'm so sorry."

"I don't need your pity." He snapped, but immediately regretting it. He took a breath "I'm sorry, Trish, I didn't -"

"I know." She interrupted. She walked towards him "You'll get her back, Soap."

"I'll die if I don't." he mumbled. Trish sighed and pulled something out of her pocket. Soap's eyes widened. It was Melissa's engagement ring.

"Melissa asked me to keep this safe while you were away in Georgia." Trish explained, taking Soap's hand and placing it in his palm. "I asked her if she was excited about getting married…she told me that she couldn't wait to spend the rest of her life with you." Soap looked in Trish's eyes, which had tears in them "I know how you feel. I can remember all the times I thought I had lost John, but he always came back, saying he'd never leave me alone. I know you'll get Melissa back; because you'll never leave her alone, either." Soap closed his fist around the ring. He promised himself to get her back – or die trying.

Melissa woke with a gasp, followed by a shiver. It was dark, and she was freezing.

"Ah, princess is awake." Her head snapped to the corner of the room, where Ursa Makarov was sitting, drinking an amber liquid out of a glass. She was rugged up in a padded jacket and long pants, not a hair out of place. Melissa's eyes widened so much that they were starting to hurt and Ursa laughed. "You must have some questions for me."

"Where am I?"

"You know I can't answer that." Melissa gritted her teeth and tried to move, but her muscles refused to co-operate "Now now, don't go straining yourself." Ursa tutted.

"Go to hell, bitch." Melissa spat.

"I thought Aleksey raised you better than that." Melissa tried to move again at the mention of her father, but was still too weak. Ursa grinned. "We're going to have so much fun together, just like before."

War room, Hereford, 1530 hours…

"At 0857 hours Georgian time Melissa Alekseyevna Morton was kidnapped during a standard rescue and seizure operation." Mac addressed the room full of generals and commanders, as well as their American partners via video link, including General Levi Morton, Melissa's grandfather "We have no doubt that Ursa Nikolaevna Makarov staged the intel, knowing that we would come for it. Melissa's degrees include computer science from Oxford University, making her highly adept at hacking, perfectly suited for the mission."

"Do you believe that Ursa will force Melissa to use her skills against us, Commander?" One of the generals in the room asked. Mac shook his head.

"Perhaps, but Melissa and Ursa have a history. Melissa was Ursa's as well as Vladimir Makarov's hostage during the late months of the Third World War and Ursa took pleasure in her pain, rather than using her to do her dirty work."

"Still, Miss Morton knows vital information about SAS operations and procedures. We can't ignore the possibility that Ursa Makarov will try to extract information from her."

"It is a possibility." Mac said. "We now have two objectives, gentlemen; find Ursa Makarov, dead or alive, and retrieve Melissa, who will be classified as a High Value Hostage. She may only be a civilian liaison, but she's one of us; and we don't leave our men behind."

"Agreed, Commander." One of the American generals next to Levi said "Miss Morton will also be classified as a High Value Hostage on our books." Mac nodded before he addressed the room again.

"Ursa hasn't been seen since Georgia, but she knows that we'll be looking even harder for her now that she has Melissa."

"So what do we do?" one of the American commanders asked.

"We do what we've done before." Levi Morton spoke up, rendering the whole room silent "We get in contact with our sources and follow leads, and bring Ursa to justice."

"UGH!" Melissa grunted as her face jerked sharply to the side, smarting from Ursa's slap. She knew it was only a matter of time before she slipped back into old habits. Ursa huffed in satisfaction, causing Melissa to scowl.

"I can't even tell you how good that felt." Ursa smiled. Melissa threw her a death glare. "What, nothing to say?"

"Actions speak better than words." She pointedly shifted her newly bound hands and feet. Ursa shook her head.

"Not for you, they don't." she quickly grabbed Melissa's chin, digging her nails into her flesh and causing Melissa to cry out in pain "You look so much like your mother when you cry." Melissa's cries turned into growls.

"Why did you kill her?" she demanded. Ursa raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows at the question. She released Melissa's chin and walked over to the door. It opened after she tapped it twice. Without another word, she left, leaving Melissa in the dark.


	7. Chapter 7

Hereford, six days later, locker room…

"Soap, this is getting too much! You don't sleep, you don't talk to the counsellor like I order you to, and then you almost beat up a cadet for no reason! The line is drawn here!" Price thundered at his protégé. They were currently in the men's locker room at the gym, after Price had pulled Soap away from almost pummelling the cadet in front of other SAS members. All other men had cleared out immediately at Price's word, leaving just the two of them in the room.

"That little shit was out of line!" Soap roared back "And I don't need to talk to anybody, I'm fine!"

"No, you're not! You're far from it! How would Melissa -"

"Don't even go there." Soap growled.

"I bloody well will. If Melissa saw what you were doing she'd kick your ass for being an ass!"

"Well she's not here, Price, you think I don't know that?!" Soap punched the locker behind him, leaving a considerable dent. He knew his knuckles were going to hurt like a bitch later, but he far from cared. Price said nothing in return, leaving the room silent. Soap breathed in and out slowly, trying to calm his pulse. "Every day since Melissa was taken," he began "I can't stop myself from thinking of what Ursa's doing to her again. When I close my eyes, she's there; calling out for me…but I can't reach her. I never should have let her go with Rook."

"There was nothing you could have done and you know it."

"Her grandfather disagrees." He laughed humourlessly "He told me that I wasn't good enough as a future husband since I was the one that let her slip away. I saw them take her, Price, and all I could do was watch."

"He's venting. Trish's father said the same thing to me, that I would never be good enough for her. I agreed with him, still do to this day." Soap turned. Price's expression was stoic. "I've never had the displeasure of having her taken away from me, and no doubt I'd probably be in even worse shape than you, Soap, but Mac will take you off active service if you continue like this. How are you going to help Melissa then?"

"You know he'll take me off any rescue mission anyway. I'm emotionally compromised."

"Yes, you are. But beating up grunts and bottling yourself up won't help matters any. See the counsellor, abuse the punching bag again if you have to, and go back to your house. I don't want to break up another fight." With that, Price turned and left. Soap slowly sat on the bench between the space of the lockers and rubbed his eyes. The old man was right. But it was hard to sleep when the person you shared your bed with wasn't lying next to you.

Unknown location…

"Too bad we aren't allowed to have a taste, this one looks good."

"You know that the lady will cut your balls off herself. She said that is one is all for herself."

"Let a deprived and depraved guy have his fantasies, huh?"

Melissa shivered under her blanket as she overhead the guards conversing outside her cell. She had been moved to a different country the day before under Ursa's instruction, where she was presently holding court with the surviving Ultranationalist advisors. She was restricted to three meagre gruels per day and a beating at night. Most of the time she was locked in her cell, reliving the horrors of her previous imprisonment, with hungry guards eying her like a piece of steak. She ran her thumb over her ring finger again, missing the weight of her engagement ring. She dreamt about Soap every night in an attempt to keep the nightmares away, forcing herself to conjure his face despite the pang it brought to her heart. Ursa had not yet taunted her about her engagement, most likely meaning she was unaware of it. She was just drifting off when a sudden bang caused her eyes to snap open. Someone just got an unpleasant surprise, and it sounded awfully close.

Hereford, the next day, 0900 hours…

"Soap, you'd better come with me." Price's voice echoed through the hall just as Soap left the counsellors office. Soap didn't have much time to ask why when Price suddenly hightailed it in the other direction, towards the exit. Soap rushed after him.

"What's going on, old man?"

"Mac just got word from across the pond; they have a unit heading towards the location of another Ultranationalist compound in Turkey. They have a spy there who confirmed Ursa's presence."

"And Melissa? Is she there?"

"Their man says that it's possible, but he hasn't had a chance to go to the dungeons, where they keep their valuable prisoners. We're getting a live feed in the war room now." The pair rushed to the adjacent building as fast as they could, almost mowing down several cadets, a tech and Rook who quickly followed them, entering the war room not five minutes later. Soap watched from the point of view of a soldier with a live helmet-cam as the unit dropped from the helicopter, shooting guards as they went. The early morning sky disappeared as they moved into the two storey compound, taking out more enemies along the way. "Something's not right." Price murmured and Soap's ears pricked.

"What now?" he demanded.

"I've counted only five tangoes so far in two minutes. There should be a lot more if Ursa's there." Price murmured. Soap turned his attention back to the screen. The soldiers were moving towards a set of closed doors that led to the banquet hall. His heartbeat rang in his ears as they breached the door, only to be met with confusion, as there was no-one there. Save one body on the floor.

"Moving up." One soldier moved to the body on the floor. No-one in the room said anything, just waiting. The body came into view, a man in typical guard dress, but with a bullet between his eyes "There's something in his hand." Soap had a hard time making out what it was, until it stopped swinging in the soldier's hand. His heart skipped a beat and he couldn't help the gasp that left his throat. It was a section of light brown hair in a braid. In the fishbone style, just the way his fiancée wore it. "Control, this is Delta Zero. We're too late, they knew we were coming. Our contact is KIA."

"What's with the hair?" another soldier asked, his voice booming through the speaker. An American male voice came through the speaker, but it wasn't another soldier.

"Delta Zero, this is control, status confirmed." It was Levi Morton "The hair belongs to a high value hostage, it's sending a message."

"What message is that, control?"

"That she's still alive."

Soap sat in the comfy armchair in the living room, gazing at two photos on the wall. They were taken four months ago, at an Army base in Los Angeles. They had completed another joint mission with the Americans and had returned to their base for a debriefing. It was eerily similar to the Taskforce 141 photo taken years ago, at least fifteen men on the ramp of a plane glaring at the camera. Soap and Price were standing next to each other in the centre, along with Rook and Nikolai and surrounded by the Yanks. But the next photo was the one that made everyone laugh. Melissa had walked by after the first shot was taken, and another one was taken before she left the reach of the camera. She was smiling at the camera knowingly while in mid stride, carrying a bouquet of lilies bequeathed to her by an old friend which enhanced her femininity, while dressed in a t-shirt, shorts and high top sneakers. She hadn't gone on the mission, rather staying at the base to help the other Army computer techs. But what made everyone laugh was that every soldier's head in the photo had turned to her, following her as she walked away. It was a stark contrast to the first photo, with glares all around and no females.

Soap sighed, carefully placing his tumbler of scotch down on the table. When he saw Melissa's hair in the hand of a dead man, he wasn't sure how to feel. He knew that she was alive; Ursa wouldn't have left something like that behind unless she was taunting them. But how much longer she was going to be alive, he wasn't sure. Sooner or later, Melissa would become a liability, and bad things would happen. And he thought that things couldn't get much worse.

"I hate you."

"What else is new?"

"You cut off my hair!" Melissa shook her head because her hands were restrained again. It was now in an uneven bob cut, sitting midway down her slender neck.

"It was time for a change, anyway." Ursa said matter-of-factly "Now I have more room to do this." The slap echoed through the small room, as did Melissa's cry. She forced herself to hold back a sob, but knew it was only a matter of time before she was reduced to tears again.


	8. Chapter 8

0541 hours, SAS base, Hereford…

Soap exhaled a heavy breath as he jogged back to the house, watching as his hot breath turned white in the cold air. It had been four days since the US Army raid in Turkey, and there hadn't been a peep from their sources about Ursa or Melissa. The Ultranationalists had gone to ground again, as did their contacts inside the ranks out of fear of death. Soap had done as his mentor ordered, talking to the therapist and keeping out of trouble, preferring to take his anger out on the targets in the firing range rather than the loud mouthed grunts (although the latter would have been much more satisfying). He slowed his jog when he approached the house, grabbing his keys out of his vest pocket.

"Soap!" it was Price. Soap turned to see the older man walking towards him from down the street.

"Morning, Price. Surprised to see an old timer like yourself up so early." Soap quipped, unlocking the door.

"I just got a call from Mac, Ursa's resurfaced." Soap stopped the key mid-turn. He whipped around to Price, who was equally as rugged up in a down jacket and long pants. "He's called me in and asked me to find you."

"When was the sighting?" Soap pulled the key out of the door and they ran down the street towards the main facilities.

"One hour ago. She was spotted by a team of Yanks scouting for one of her associates in Hong Kong. They're preparing to move in." Soap swore under his breath and ran faster. They reached the war room in twenty minutes, where another live feed was on the interactive screen. The feed showed the Yanks running up a staircase and bursting onto the roof of a high rise, prepping sniper equipment and taking aim at the high rise across the street.

"Control this is Hades Alpha." Soap recognised the voice immediately.

"Ronald Morton." Was all he said. Price nodded "I knew he was tasked with covert ops but this -"

"Call it a lucky break." Price finished.

"Targets sighted, 67th floor," Rhody went on to say. "Confirmation of Ursa Makarov and Yelchin Sudarov. There's a third, a female, but her face is obscured by the blinds."

"Hades Alpha and all other callsigns, this is Big Daddy of beta squad, we're closing in on the targets, over." Another voice said. During this time, one of Rhody's snipers had plugged his scope into a computer uplink, giving everyone in the war room a visual of what they were seeing. The only man in the room, Sudarov, was placing a metal briefcase on the table between Ursa and the third woman, who was making agitated gestures with her hands. Ursa made an angry face and snapped at her.

"Someone's not happy." Price murmured. Soap just stared at the screen. Both Ursa and Sudarov were trying to force the third to do something on the briefcase, which Soap saw had a keyboard in the bottom compartment. They needed this third for something. A bang snapped him out of his train of thought.

"All call signs, this is beta squad! We've come under heavy fire! Repeat, we've come under heavy fire!"

"Affirmative beta squad!" Soap saw Sudarov take a gun out from his jacket "Take him out!" Rhody ordered. Not a second later the sniper fired, taking a shot straight through the window and into Suadrov's heart. "Beta squad, this is Hades Alpha, try to break through and head upwards! Ursa is making a break for it!" the second Sudarov went down Ursa had leapt out of her chair, pulling the other woman out by the wrist and disappearing from the scope's view.

"Sir, there's a chopper coming in!" Another sniper cried. From a head-cam on the next screen, everyone saw a sleek helicopter approaching the building to make a landing.

"This is beta squad, breaking though the tangoes and heading up!" but it was too late. Ursa had just opened the rooftop access door, pulling the resisting mystery woman with her whose face was obscured by her hair.

"Zoom in on the woman and take a snapshot of her face, see who she is." Soap heard Rhody order. The sniper complied and a picture was taken, pulling away into the top right hand corner for analysis while the live feed took up the rest of the screen. Soap couldn't see the woman's face; she was struggling too much, until the facial scan came back with a hit.

"Sir, control matches it to a HVH, Melissa Morton!" the sniper said.

"WHAT?!" Rhody roared, and Soap's heart stopped in his chest. The woman had pushed Ursa away and brushed her short hair out of her face, revealing it to indeed be Melissa. She was in an expensive dress and had lost her shoes somewhere along the way, and her face was polished with makeup. Ursa made a grab for her, but Melissa was too quick, punching her across the jaw and grabbing her hair. "Take Ursa out!"

"I can't! They're moving around too much, I might hit the girl!" By this time Ursa had wrenched Melissa's hand out of her hair, signalling to the chopper as it descended. But at the same time, the sniper fired. The scope vision confirmed it only hit her in the shoulder, but it knocked Ursa to the ground, taking Melissa with her. Melissa hit the ground hard, especially her head, if the expression on her face was anything to go by. Ursa looked disoriented, but the adrenaline kept her going. She slowly stood, but the helicopter blocked any good shot. She pulled Melissa up, but the younger girl retaliated by punching her in her shot shoulder. Ursa shrieked and slapped her, making Melissa fall back to the ground.

"Open fire on the chopper, we can't let her get away!" Rhody ordered. The snipers complied, unleashing a volley of bullets on the helicopter. Ursa hurriedly got on board, leaving Melissa on the ground. It lifted off and flew away, escaping just as the beta squad arrived on the roof. "Big Daddy, confirm the status of the High Value Hostage, over." Rhody demanded. Everyone in the control room waited with baited breath as the team leader squatted next to Melissa on the ground, taking her pulse. Soap's eyes immediately snapped to the leader's helmet-cam. Melissa was groaning, there was a cut letting out blood on her forehead from where she hit the ground, but other than that…

"Hades, she's fine." There was a collective sigh of relief and claps on the shoulders all round. "A little bruised, but no life threatening injuries."

"Understood, we're coming to you. Someone get the SAS on the line." Rhody said.

Mac's office, twenty minutes later…

"Ronald Morton and the members of his covert ops squad will be coming here, as per the instructions of the hostage notice on Melissa. Their expected arrival is in seven hours' time. Major MacTavish," Mac looked at Soap, who was dressed in his fatigues and wore a stoic expression "upon arrival Melissa will be transported to the hospital for a full assessment. You will be able to see her after that."

"Yes sir." Was all Soap said in reply. Mac then addressed Price.

"Levi, his wife and their housekeeper will be expected to arrive tomorrow, they're getting on the next military transport. Aleksey Makarov will be arriving separately, he's on business in the Philippines."

"Understood."

Military transport, British airspace…

"Okay boys, get prepped, we land in twenty minutes!" Ronald "Rhody" Morton said, earning a chorus of "yes sir" in return. He turned his head back to his niece, who was safely tucked in his arms. She hadn't let go of him since he arrived at the rooftop back in Hong Kong, clinging to him like a scared child. "Almost there, kiddo." he said in a softer voice. Melissa didn't reply, rather burying her face in his shirt. "John will be there waiting, you know. I know you can't wait to see him."

"I don't want him to see me like this." She said in a small voice. Rhody sighed and pressed his fingers under her chin so she would look at him. Her eyes were empty, causing his heart to break a little. Her now short hair was messy and her makeup was smudged, but he knew at the moment that she didn't care.

"He'll never think any less of you, he holds you on a pedestal." Melissa didn't reply "Look, we'll touch down, get you to the hospital to be checked out, and see where things go from there. You'll have to answer questions, same as last time, and go through counselling again. Your dad, my parents and Lorraine will be there to help you through the whole thing."

"I don't want help. I want it to end."

Eight hours after rescue, Hereford hospital…

Soap's heel was tapping the ground incessantly as he waited for the doctor to come out of the exam room. Melissa had been admitted forty-five minutes ago, straight after landing with her uncle, and he hadn't caught a glimpse of her. His stomach had been in a jumble of nerves all day, and he felt like he could explode from the tension. He had worked out, shaved and tidied up his mowhawk, but that barely took up enough time to keep him occupied. He had heard the Rhody had gone to Mac for debriefing, and that he would be staying in Hereford while his unit headed back to the States.

"Major MacTavish?" the doctor's voice rang out in the hall. Soap snapped to attention immediately and walked over to the doctor.

"How is she?" he demanded and the doctor pushed his glasses up his nose before he spoke.

"She has no broken bones, but there is some serious bruising around her ribs and face. It seems she took quite a beating over the last few days. But other than that, there are no signs of disease, infection or illness."

"Can I see her?"

"Like I could stop you. Go right ahead." Soap nodded and strode towards the door to Melissa's room and pushed it open without hesitation. His eyes immediately went to the figure in the bed, but what he saw broke his heart. Melissa looked small and fragile, curled up on the mattress, but she quickly uncurled at the sight of him. The doctor said she was bruised, but he didn't realise how bad it would be. There were purple marks on her face, over her cheekbones and chin, and around her left eye. The gown hid her torso, but not the yellow and purple bruises on her arms. His blue eyes found her hazel ones, and a second later Melissa cracked, bursting into tears. Soap immediately went to her side, leaning over the bed to hold her in his arms. She had lost weight, and was skinnier than what he was used to.

"It's all over, it's all over." He whispered to her "I love you so much." That only seemed to make her cry harder. He kissed her head and she fisted her hands in his jacket, pulling him down. He braced his hands on the mattress just in time, otherwise he would have crushed her. He sat on the bed and Melissa was halfway into his lap, wrapping her thin arms around his neck and pressing her face into the column of his throat. Soap draped his muscular ones around her torso. "I'm so sorry, Melissa."

"No, don't say that." She pleaded in nothing more than a whisper "Just tell me that you love me, and make all the bad things go away."

"I love you, and you know I will." He spoke into her ear before pulling away to look her in the face. He cupped the side of her face in his hand, running the pad of his thumb over her cheek. Melissa stretched her neck upwards and pressed her lips against his, melting into him as he responded. Soap tightened his hold, just to make sure that he wasn't having a dream. She squeaked in discomfort and he loosened his grip some, but not much. "I have something for you." he whispered against her lips after they parted, pulling the ring out of his pocket. Melissa looked down at it and her face seemed to fall even further, if that was possible. Soap felt his heart rate double again in panic at the look she was giving it.

"You still want to marry me?" she asked, her voice hollow.

"Yes." his reply was simple "This ring belongs on your finger. Please, take it back." Melissa stared at it for a moment longer, and then held out her hand. Soap held back his sigh of relief and pushed it on her ring finger. It was a little loose because of her weight loss, but Soap didn't care. It was back where it was supposed to be.


	9. Chapter 9

Three days later…

Soap watched as Melissa ate the breakfast Lorraine had laid out for her. Every morning the Frenchwoman had let herself into the house with the spare key and made breakfast for them after Soap had left for his morning training but before he returned. Melissa was kept overnight for observation in the infirmary and released the next day, sitting down with the psychologist who promptly diagnosed her with PTSD. The psychiatrist had theorised that being thrust back into the same captive environment had backlashed Melissa, and making her feel like she had been held by Ursa for another six months rather than twelve days. Soap could see the effects for himself. When he brought his fiancée home, the front door was blown shut by a gust of wind. Melissa had bolted behind the couch and taken cover. The arrival of her grandparents, her former nanny and her father didn't seem to make the situation any better. Melissa barely spoke to them, rather sitting quietly as they talked to her. In fact, she had barely spoken to anybody; she just stayed in the house and floated around. She only spoke to Soap, and to Rook after she accepted his apology for losing her.

"Drink, nice and strong to wake you up." Soap snapped out of his thoughts as Lorraine set a steaming mug of coffee in front of Melissa, who accepted it with a quiet thank you. Soap set his gaze on her left hand where her engagement ring sat. She wore it all the time, only taking it off to shower. It was like her security blanket when he wasn't available, twisting it around her finger repeatedly when she got lost in her thoughts. Soap heard the door open but he didn't need to turn to see who it was. Mona Morton, Aleksey Makarov and Rhody walked into his line of vision and he heard Levi close the door behind him. Mona set to work helping Lorraine clear the kitchen as the three men sat at the table. Melissa's eyes flicked to each of them.

"What?" she asked over her coffee. Levi sighed.

"The commanders of the SAS are requesting your presence. They want to question you about your time with Ursa." He explained, setting his beanie on the table.

"Nothing to tell." She muttered and placed the mug on the table before cutting her bacon.

"Princess, this will happen sooner or later, you know that. I've told them to back off for now, but it's only a matter of time before they won't ask nicely. You work for them, and are expected to obey their orders." In response Melissa quickly stood, causing the chair to screech violently against the floor. She promptly walked off and Soap winced when he heard the bedroom door slam hard enough to shake the house.

"I told you to phrase it differently, Levi." Aleksey scolded, moving to get up and go after his daughter. Soap held up his hand and stood first.

"I'll go after her, unless you want to lose your head." He didn't leave time for Aleksey to reply when he went to the bedroom. He cautiously opened the door and walked in, closing it softly. Melissa was sitting on the edge of her side of the bed, staring at her hands.

"He's right." She said as he walked towards her "But I can't."

"I know." He replied, sitting next to her and draping an arm around her shoulders. Melissa instinctively leant into his side "Price and I will do what we can to hold them off, and I'm sure your therapist will too." She didn't reply immediately, and Soap felt her shift underneath his hold.

"I close my eyes and I'm back in that cell, every night. I feel like she's broken me, John."

"Don't say that."

"But she has." Melissa abruptly stood and paced, running her hands over her face. "I know I swore that she wouldn't beat me, but she's undone the three months of my recovery in twelve days. I hate feeling so scared and angry, and I hate that I feel she's watching over my shoulder." Soap stood in her path and pulled her into a hug, his arms like unbreakable bands around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head as she sobbed into his jumper.

"Miss Morton has only been back for three days and you want to interrogate her?"

"Not interrogate, commander, ask about her time with Ursa." Captain Ewan Leicester corrected.

"There's not much of a difference." MacMillan snarled "The poor lass hasn't left her house since she's returned! She's in no condition to be interviewed. And if you even try, I'll report you for matters concerning insubordination."

"The interview will happen sooner or later, sir. Our best interests rely on the former, not the latter."

"I understand that, but we don't need one of our best to be pushed beyond her limits and break down. She needs to heal. Her fiancé will kill you if anything happens, and he knows how to do it slowly." Captain Leicester didn't respond, mulling MacMillan's words over. He stood up a moment later.

"I'll pass your refusal on to my superiors, sir. Expect a call later this afternoon."

"Don't let the door smack you in the ass on the way out, captain."

Later that day…

"I can understand your hesitation." Dr Lindsey Phillips, Melissa's therapist, nodded "It's not fair of them to ask this of you at such an early time."

"But if I can't do it now, will I ever be able too?" Melissa asked "I need to be okay, doc, I have to be!"

"It's good that you want to get better, but PTSD doesn't go away with a snap of your fingers, Melissa. You need time to heal." Melissa slumped in her chair "You need time to heal and to heal properly. If you want to be able to make the world better the way you want it to, you need to focus on you first. The last thing anyone wants is for you to crash and burn, and the SAS doesn't want to lose one of their finest."

"I'm not one of the finest."

"Your record contradicts you. You have a double degree from Oxford, currently studying postgraduate level in computer science and have the highest data turnover rate since you joined the SAS as a liaison. Commanders MacMillan and Lawless have the highest praise for your talents. Ursa can't take that away from you." she then eyed Melissa's hand "That's a beautiful ring." Melissa looked down at her hand and twisted the band around her finger "Major MacTavish has taste."

"He has his moments." Melissa smiled.

"How long have you been together?"

"End of next week makes it a year."

"Does that excite you?" Phillips asked, to which Melissa nodded.

"I can't believe it's been a year. I got lucky with him."

"You certainly are; he has no shortage of admirers on base." Melissa chuckled "When did he propose?"

"Christmas Day. We were opening our presents and the next thing I know he's down on one knee pouring his heart out."

"Do you have a date for the wedding?" Melissa said nothing, rather pursing her lips. Phillips waited until she spoke.

"After Ursa's reappearance, I told John that we couldn't get married until she was out of the picture."

"Do you think that's fair?"

"I know it's not, but I can't focus with her looming behind me."

"Major MacTavish loves you, but even a man like him has limits. I can understand why you're reluctant about planning the wedding, but you let Ursa win by letting her oppress what should be one of the happiest times in your life." Melissa had no reply, rather pressing her lips together again "What you do is up to you, but do whatever you choose slowly. Remember what your father said?"

"Every day you wake up is the day you're not dead."

Over the next few days, there was a new air in the Morton/MacTavish house. Melissa had come out of her self-imposed exile and was seeing her therapist every day, going to the gym and into Hereford town to try re-integrate her routine. Though Dr Phillips hadn't yet cleared her for work, Melissa found enough in her day to keep her busy. But that didn't mean there weren't speed bumps. Nightmares were a common occurrence, often ending with Melissa crying herself to sleep while Soap held her. The higher-ups were still pressuring her to go to London to give an account of her time with Ursa, now with MI5 and the CIA weighing in on the argument. Melissa had refused two more requests, with her fiancé, Price, MacMillan and her family backing her.

It was now a week after Melissa's return, and she was allowed back in her office to continue work, but was under doctor's orders for no more field operations in the near future until she was cleared. Melissa had grudgingly agreed.

"As you can see poppet, it's just the way you left it." Mac said as Melissa tapped the clear glass tablet to activate her animatronic computer. A couple of taps later windows of data streams popped up on the screen, as well as various files. "We've had the other techs running your work, but they sent everything back to you once they heard of your return."

"Good. They've made progress on the stuff I've already done." She nodded. Mac tugged his collar.

"It's always too bloody warm in here." He muttered and Melissa chuckled.

"I'm a girl who grew up in a desert, Mac. England might as well be the North Pole for me, it's not my fault you're so cold blooded."

"Good to see you have your humour back." The older man replied dryly and walked away "I'll check on you later."

"Thank you!" she called out, never taking her eyes of the screen. It was only a couple of seconds later that she heard another voice from down the hall, quickly coming closer.

"Mel Mel Mel Mel Mel!" Melissa barely had time to turn before she was nearly knocked off her feet by Cornelia "Connie" O'Toole, another civilian liaison like herself.

"Oof! Connie! Connie! I can't breathe!"

"Oh God, sorry!" Connie quickly jumped back to give her breathing space. Melissa caught her disappointed look.

"I didn't say stop." She said, opening her arms. Connie squealed in delight and slammed into her for another hug. Melissa had met Connie at Oxford, where they were both in the same advanced IT class. They had become best friends during their time together and Melissa had helped Connie get settled after she had taken a liaison position six months prior. Connie was a quirky character, with straight black hair, blood red lips and black lined eyes with a sleeve tattoo of roses and pin-up girls down her right arm. She was always happy, smiling and laughing, but was a whiz at hacking and encryption like Melissa.

"Welcome back! I missed you! Nothing was the same without you here!" Connie broke the hug and jumped a little on the balls of her feet. Then she stopped and a frown came on her face. "Are you mad at me?"

"For what?" Melissa asked, taken aback.

"Well, after you came back I didn't come by the house to see how you were. I thought you might need space but I still feel bad about it and -"

"Connie, I think you did the right thing. I didn't really want to see anyone anyway." Melissa shrugged and Connie smiled.

"Nothing was the same without you here. It felt so weird doing your work, and your fiancé was no easy man to be around, no offence." That caught Melissa's attention.

"How was John, while I was…you know?"

"Oh, it was bad." Connie waved her hands for emphasis "Rumour has it that he went head on with the higher-ups to try and get you back, and then he nearly broke a cadet's nose after a confrontation in the gym; people steered well clear of him except Major Price. Rook's eye was a little blacker than he left it after coming back from Georgia."

"Yeah, Rook told me John beat him up. That bad, huh?"

"Yeah, it was. You're his whole world, take that away and he has nothing. You're a lucky girl."

"I know." Melissa nodded.

"Anyway, how have _you_ been? First day back on the job! And with a new 'do, too!"

"You really like it?" Melissa ran her fingers through her newly trimmed hair, courtesy of Lorraine. Connie nodded vehemently.

"I love it! All you need are some bangs and you're golden!"

"It was a big enough thing to have it cut off, Connie!"

"Okay, just think about it." she made a surrendering gesture at Melissa's glare.

"Anyway, it's good to be back, but the doc said no more missions for a while. You know I was a hermit for a few days, but then I realised that I let Ursa win by locking myself away. So, I got out of my house, went to the gym, shot Ursa in the face at the firing range and went into town with John for a drink."

"Anything else to report on the man front, soldier Morton?" Connie waggled her eyebrows suggestively. Melissa snorted.

"I don't get hot and heavy and tell."

"Sure you do, I just have to get you drunk first."

"Not now, I have to work."

"Okay, well, I just wanted to see how you were doing. I handled a lot of your work, so if you have any questions -"

"I'll come running. Thanks Connie." The Englishwoman gave Melissa a wet smack on the cheek before walking out the door.

Later that day…

"Hey Mac, what did you want to see me about?" Melissa looked up from her tablet computer and stopped short in the door of Mac's office. The man himself was standing behind his desk, but it was the man in a captain's uniform across from him that made her pause. "Is this a good time?"

"Please, Melissa, come in." Mac waved her forward. Melissa slipped the tablet in her bag and walked in and Mac continued to speak "This is Captain Ewan Leicester, he's the liaison between the SAS and the British government."

"Miss Morton, a pleasure." The captain shook her hand and Melissa took in his profile. Ewan had sandy blond hair and brown eyes, with a slightly crooked nose and thin lips. He filled out his uniform nicely and was wearing a pleasant smile for the moment. The same could not be said for Mac.

"What's this about?" she asked slowly.

"Please, sit." Mac said and they both complied. "The captain is here again on behalf of our government, as well as MI5 and MI6."

"My superiors are anxious, Miss Morton. Your information about your time with Ursa Makarov could help us immensely in her capture." Leicester said. Melissa felt her face harden.

"And what do you think I'm doing in my office all day, captain? Playing video games? Planning my wedding?" she seethed "This is the third time in six days! And I'm guessing you've deliberately timed this so that my grandfather and uncle don't interfere, considering they left for home yesterday." The captain didn't bat an eyelash, but Melissa did see a flicker of something in his eye. "Have any of you considered the hell I went through with her?! How she made me relive it every day in my cell?!"

"We understand, Miss Morton, but this is a very important matter that can't be left alone." Melissa snorted and shook her head. "All we're asking is for you to come to London and give us an account. You'll be there no longer than three days."

"Melissa." she turned to look at Mac "This is a pain, but they'll only keep bothering you until they get what they want. Dr Phillips says that you can handle it, but she doesn't want you to do anything until you're sure." There was a tense silence for a few moments, until Melissa looked at Leicester again.

"I'm not going to be bullied into doing this. It's going to be on my terms, and when I say so. And -" she raised her voice as Leicester opened his mouth "If you or anyone of your superiors try to screw me around, I'll Taser you, and watch as you drool on the floor." Melissa stood up and walked out the door without another word. Leicester turned to Mac, who had an unreadable expression on his face.

"You're lucky she didn't have her Taser today." Was all he said.

Next Friday, 1630 hours

Melissa sighed as she pulled into the garage of her house, getting out of the car and locking it before walking into the warm house. It had been another long day, made even longer because of not seeing her fiancé since the previous night when they went to bed. She woke up to a note on her pillow which said _"Sorry I'm not there to wake you up, but I have to train the grunts at the killing houses. I love you."_. What made it even worse was it was their one year anniversary, one year to the day that they had met. She had a whole day planned of making a special dinner and going shopping, but that was now down the drain with all the work she had gotten caught up in. Melissa pulled her tablet out of her bag to check her emails before a noise made her stop. It was music, a classical violin solo. Melissa slowly put the tablet back and walked down the hall towards the living room, being as silent as her booted feet would allow. She glanced around the corner and her jaw dropped. There was a huge bouquet of her favourite peach roses on the dining room table, practically glowing in the light of the fireplace from the sitting area.

"John?" Melissa called, but there was no answer. She walked over to the roses and plucked the card out of the blooms on which her name was written in cursive. She opened it and giggled before she could stop herself.

_You know I would never forget a day as important as this, and I'm sorry if I made you think I did. This past year with you has been one of the best of my life. I love you. Happy Anniversary – John_

Melissa read and re-read the card before standing up straight. There wasn't a moment to lose.

Three hours later…

Soap locked the car and headed into the house, shedding his padded jacket and placing it on the coat rack, mulling over the day. He hadn't gotten injured at the killing houses again, but he couldn't say the same for some of the cadets. At the end they were bruised, bloody, muddy and limping to the infirmary. Price got a kick out of calling the shots, and Soap didn't mind it either. He took a deep breath and paused. Something delicious was cooking.

"Melissa?" he called.

"In here!" her voiced echoed down the hall. Soap's booted footfalls were loud and heavy as he walked down the hall, and when he reached the living area he couldn't help but smile. The roses he had sent his fiancée were sitting on the coffee table in the lounge room, and the dining table was set with their favourite foods. There was a big, juicy steak for him, and fresh Italian pasta for her both with steam rising off it, with a bottle of red wine in the middle she got from Lorraine. But Soap's eyes were no longer on the food when Melissa walked in. She was in a red dress that hugged her figure fantastically, showing off her curves, with her hair loosely wavy. If Soap didn't have better control over his jaw it would have been on the floor. He settled for wolf whistling instead.

"What did I do to deserve this?" he asked as she walked over to him. Melissa gave a coy smile before standing on her toes to kiss him, one which he gladly returned, locking his arms around her slim waist.

"For putting up with me for a year." She replied when they parted, albeit a little short of breath.

"I think we have the roles of gratefulness reversed here." He said and she shook her head.

"It's all me being grateful for you, John." She insisted "For accepting me despite who my brother is, for putting up with my B.S., for being there for me when I almost fell over the edge. For asking me to marry you."

"I should be thanking you for that." He smiled and kissed her again. She laughed under the kiss and broke it before it got too deep.

"I want to set a date for the wedding." That made Soap's eyebrows rise. "I know that I said that we couldn't until Ursa was gone, but Dr Phillips made me accept that it wasn't fair on either of us."

"Are -"

"Yes." she interrupted before he could finish and he smiled.

"Okay, when were you thinking? What do you want to do?"

"You don't have any ideas?"

"It's better for everyone if you plan everything. It's your day, I'm just the guy showing up." Melissa could stop the grin that was forming and kissed him again.


	10. Chapter 10

Six days later…

"Yes Connie, tell the florist I want the white ones…because they're traditional, that's why! Yes I know you think they're boring…okay, then put some purple ones in there too, they're pretty…hey, this is my wedding, remember?" Soap chuckled as Melissa argued with Connie over the phone. They had set the date of the wedding for August 15th and were having the ceremony in Glasgow, chosen because of Soap's family and how it was left alone in the war. Rather than enlist her grandmother, Lorraine or his own mother, Soap was surprised to hear that Melissa had asked Connie to help her plan the wedding. Turns out her mother was a wedding planner and had taught Connie a few tricks of the trade. It was now nearly the end of January, leaving a little more than seven months to plan. But unfortunately, getting married wasn't the first item on the agenda. Melissa had gotten in contact with Captain Leicester and arranged to be interviewed about her "experiences" with Ursa, wanting to get it over and done with. Once she had told him, Soap immediately demanded to go with her, which Mac approved. Price had asked to go too, and Soap knew it was to keep an eye on the proceedings. Mac was going himself, and had arrived in London the day before. The three of them were currently seated in a luxury BMW making its way through the underground tunnels of London, taking them to the new MI5 headquarters. The intelligence agency had temporarily relocated underground after the gas attacks on Europe, and was staying there until their new place was reconstructed. Representatives from the CIA and MI6 would also be in attendance, among others. Soap and Price were in their SAS dress uniforms, scrubbed and shaved to the letter while Melissa was in a white structured top, A-line black skirt and black Gucci heels, with her makeup impeccable and her short hair tied in a ponytail. She sighed and hung up the phone.

"Have you worked out the flowers?" Soap smirked and his fiancée shook her head.

"White and purple orchids, no pink, and that's final." She said in a ragged voice.

"That tone's just for flowers?" Price snorted "Can't wait to see what a state you'll be in when you're picking out the dress."

"Connie has this whole other side to her. I've unleashed a monster."

"You want her or my mother?" Soap asked.

"Her, even over my own grandmother. Or Lorraine. Hopefully she'll be bridezilla so that I don't have to be."

"Trust me love, you'll turn into bridezilla, it's a given." Price nodded.

"Are we nearly there?" Melissa asked and Soap shrugged.

"Not sure. It's not like they told us where they're living in the sewers." He replied. Melissa bit her lip and fiddled with the strap of her bag. Soap took her hand in his so that she would stop.

"We can turn this car around and go back to Hereford; you don't have to do this." He reminded her gently.

"But I have to." She whispered and Soap squeezed her hand. He knew she wasn't looking forward to reliving her experiences, and no-one had any right to ask her…but at the same time, these guys did. A few seconds later, the car slowed and a large door opened, revealing a garage lit by fluorescent lights.

"We've arrived." The driver said. Soap looked at Price, who nodded. The men put on their berets and the car doors opened on both sides. Melissa took the driver's helping hand and stepped out one side, while her fiancé and Price stepped out on the other with the security guard. Soap noticed a fleet of the same BMW they arrived in parked on the far side of the garage, about half a dozen cars in total. It looked like they were the last to arrive.

"This way, please." The security guard directed, walking towards a door on the opposite side of the garage. They followed him through a maze of white corridors before finally walking through what looked like a reception area. The guard kept going through a walkway that overlooked a huge office with rows and rows of desks, with personnel scurrying around like ants. It took another couple of minutes before they finally reached their destination, with a woman in her sixties standing outside a pair of metal double doors.

"Gentlemen, Miss Morton." She nodded, speaking in a pleasant English voice "Welcome to MI5."

"Director Elroy, thanks for having us." Price replied. Elroy smiled a little. She was a woman in small stature, wearing a black tweed jacket that contrasted nicely with her light blond hair.

"A pleasure. Everyone else has arrived." She looked at Melissa "Thank you for doing this, Miss Morton."

"I didn't have much of a choice." Soap glanced at her. Melissa had a stony face on in a bid not to show any emotion.

"I understand you're not looking forward to doing this, and I also understand why. We'll try to make this quick so that it's done today." She gestured towards the doors.

"Why am I here, why am I here…" Melissa mumbled at the CIA director's question. Soap could feel all of their eyes boring into her. They had been going at this for two hours now. Melissa was seated at the head of a round table, with the heads of the various intelligence agencies making up the rest of the space. Soap and Price were seated behind her, and Mac beside her, keeping an eye on everybody. "I am here, Director Berk, because my father's sociopathic ex-wife keeps making a mess."

"Then help us clean up the mess. On the day of your rescue, Ursa had brought you with her to a meeting with an associate in Hong Kong. According to the incident report, they placed a XV Series Master Laptop case in front of you. We use that to hack highly secure databases. What did they want you to do?"

"I'm not entirely sure."

"Excuse me? What do you mean, you're not entirely sure? They told you to use it, didn't they?"

"Yes."

"To do what?" Director Elroy asked.

"They gave me a server address and told me to create a worm in order to bypass it. It looked familiar, but I can't remember from where."

"Think, Miss Morton, if it's familiar, then you can remember." Director Berk prompted.

"I have a hard time remembering, considering the next moment we were getting shot at." Melissa snapped.

"I think we're going around in circles." Another person from the round table spoke up as Director Berk opened his mouth "We've put Miss Morton through enough. I suggest we adjourn for an hour."

"Agreed -"

"Wait!" the room went silent at Melissa's shout and Soap felt his muscles tense, ready to spring into action "Who spoke just then? Who just agreed?"

"I did. Is there a problem, Miss Morton?" Soap looked at his place card. It read Admiral David Strade, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff of the United States government. Melissa's face sagged in recognition.

"The National Security Agency. Ursa wanted me to hack the NSA." There was a silence for a moment, until Melissa made the mistake of clearing her throat. The bomb exploded.

"THE NSA?!"

"What did she want with them?!"

There were voices trying to speak on top of each other, with no particular one standing out. Soap glanced at Price, who shrugged. Even MacMillan looked baffled.

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD JUST SHUT UP!" Soap stopped himself before he jumped out of his skin as his fiancée's voice thundered out, effectively cutting off the noise and leaving some of the most important people in the world staring at her, dumbstruck. Melissa's thundercloud face had returned and she was standing, her hands planted firmly on the table. "I didn't force myself to come here just to listen to you all squeal like little girls!"

"Melissa," Mac said lowly "Don't get carried away."

"I'm fine, Mac." She said through gritted teeth.

"Miss Morton, if you have any inking about what Ursa wanted you need to tell us right now. If you couldn't do the job, she'll get someone else." Admiral Strade said. Melissa resumed her seat.

"That's where my help runs out. Once you make a worm you can hack into any part of the database you want, it doesn't discriminate. She didn't tell me why, just what she wanted. What do you think she was after?"

"Sensitive material, I can't say any more." The admiral motioned to his assistant and whispered in her ear. She nodded and quickly left the room.

Hereford, 2100 hours, MacTavish house…

"I still can't believe you actually stood up and yelled at all of them." Soap said when he came out of the bathroom. Melissa was already in bed, putting down her issue of _Bridal Vogue_ to look at him.

"What, you think I shouldn't of?"

"No, I thought it was very sexy." He grinned wolfishly and kissed her as he slid into bed. He could feel Melissa smiling and pulled away before pulling the covers over himself. "I'm proud of you. That wasn't an easy thing to do today."

"No, it wasn't," she agreed, placing her magazine on the bedside table "I'm glad it's over, this part anyway."

"Which part are you talking about? The interview or the flowers?" Soap laughed when Melissa groaned and flung herself into her pillow.


	11. Chapter 11

Melissa's office, the next day, 1200 hours…

"What about the coffee cake? It's always nice to try something different!"

"I like coffee in my mug in the mornings while I eat my toast, not in my cake. We're sticking with the chocolate." Melissa's voice was dangerous when Soap walked into her office. She was lying on her office couch while Connie was sitting on a chair across from her. Soap tried not to chuckle at the thought of it looking too much like a therapist's set up.

"Now now, ladies, no need for things to get ugly." He said, causing both of them to start. They hadn't notice him come in.

"Oh yes it does." Connie said as soon as she regained her wits, narrowing her eyes and pointing at Melissa "She doesn't want to try anything fun!"

"Chocolate cake is fun. It gave me sugar highs as a kid. Good times." Melissa sighed, reminiscing. "John, back me up here. Is chocolate a good option for our wedding cake?"

"Oh no, I'm not getting in the middle of you two." Soap held up his hands and shook his head.

"Come on! If we want to advance order our cake, we have to agree on a flavour! Please, help me end this misery!"

"Okay, okay," he acquiesced, walking over to Melissa and pulling her off the couch "If I was given an option, I would take the chocolate."

"No buts!" Melissa pointed at Connie, who closed her mouth and sighed, scribbling some notes.

"I expected you to be more adventurous, John." She sulked.

"No, when it comes to sweets I like it simple. Just like this one." He pulled Melissa into his side for emphasis and she snorted.

"That was so corny." She tutted in disappointment.

"Yet you're marrying me anyway." Soap deadpanned "Come on, lunch won't wait."

"We still have cake designs to go over!" he heard Connie call out as he led his fiancée out of her office with his firm grip still on her waist.

"You're right, she is a monster." Soap looked down at her. Melissa sighed.

"She's the only one I trust."

"You may live to regret those words."

"Commander?" Mac looked up to see his secretary standing at the door "Admiral Strade is here to see you."

"Send him in." Mac replied, taking off his glasses. The admiral walked in a few seconds later with his own assistant in tow, dressed smartly in his uniform and his cap under his arm. "Admiral, welcome to Hereford." Mac greeted, shaking his hand. Strade smiled.

"Thank you for having me on such short notice." Strade replied and took one of the seats across from Mac's desk while his assistant sat in the other "I'm sorry that we couldn't discuss things over the phone, but this matter is too sensitive. We have to be careful. Before I go any further, is Miss Morton around?" Mac raised a brow at this question.

"Last I saw she and her wedding planner were at each other's throats over cake options. Given the time, she's probably finishing lunch with her fiancé now. Is this about the lead she gave you at the inquiry?"

"Yes, it is." Strade nodded "I need her present, as well as the best black ops men you have. I came here to brief you."

Thirty minutes later, war room…

"Miss Morton, good to see you again." Strade shook Melissa's hand when she walked in with Soap following close behind.

"Likewise, admiral." Melissa replied and turned to Soap "This is my fiancé, Major John MacTavish."

"Ah yes, I remember, you were at the inquiry yesterday." Strade nodded and shook Soap's hand "I didn't realise who you were at the time, Major. Your reputation precedes you."

"Thank you, admiral." Soap replied when Price and Rook walked in. More introductions were made before the doors were closed and the lights turned off. The admiral's assistant plugged a USB into the holographic projector table in the middle of the room and streams of data appeared. Soap noted it was like a 3D version of Melissa's computer screen.

"Now, I'm sure you're wondering why you're here." Strade began "In London yesterday, Miss Morton gave us some intel that Ursa Makarov was going to attempt to hack the National Security Agency. I placed a call and it was discovered that a hack indeed took place five days ago at around 2310 hours East Coast time."

"What did they hack?" Price asked. The admiral tapped on the holographic keyboard and the data rearranged itself in a list form.

"The Ultranationalists hacked our databases and took encrypted files. The files were lists of our intelligence operatives left in their ranks, as well as upcoming operations to take down the rest of the regime. Some of these are joint missions with British intelligence, making it a priority for you, too. We plan to hit their guns, their pockets and their pride, but that will all go up in smoke if they decrypt the lists."

"Hold on a minute." Mac's voice was deadly "Why weren't we notified about this as soon as you discovered it? Our people are on the line too, here!"

"Commander, I assure you, I only found out myself an hour ago when the techs called me from Virginia." Strade explained in a calm voice. "After we found the hack one of our operatives in the CIA contacted us. Ursa had sent the files to this man, Darim Al-Aran. He used to be the computer whiz for Iranian intelligence before he went independent. Now he sells his skills to the highest bidder."

"So because your people are spread too thin, we have to retrieve the files?" Strade nodded at Melissa's question "What codes did you use to encrypt the files?"

"Our guys say that they're Reaper 100s." Melissa whistled.

"I'm guessing they're really good?" Rooked asked and Melissa nodded.

"They're the Bugatti of data cryptography, my friend. Reaper 100s are specially designed so that if you hit the wrong key the data not only gets wiped off the disk drive, but you can't resurrect them with gravedigger software."

"The Ultranationalists breached our firewall, took the lists and replaced them with dummies. So technically, those files in Al-Aran's possession are the only ones in existence."

"Which is why you need them back." Mac finished and Strade nodded.

"We've located him in a luxury hotel in Abu Dhabi, where he rents an apartment. The hotel is guarded by the Ultranationalists until he finishes his work. I need you to retrieve him as well as his device which houses the files. But there's a catch, isn't that right, Miss Morton?"

"If you stall in decrypting a Reaper 100 file it'll self-destruct. It needs constant attention – you either break the code or fix it. I'll get onto my professor at Oxford right after we finish, he wrote the program. He can give me something to help."

"We need the files back fully encrypted, which is why I want you on the mission." Strade explained.

"Melissa." she looked at Mac "You've only recently been cleared for active missions. Do you think you can handle it?"

"Yes, I can." She nodded and tried to ignore Soap, who she knew was staring right at her.

"Excellent. We'll arrange for you to fly to Abu Dhabi by private jet and set you up in the hotel across the street." Strade said and looked at Mac "They should be out of the country by the end of the day."

"Go on, say it." Soap glanced at Melissa as he drove them to the airstrip. A private plane from London had arrived to take them to Abu Dhabi and they had the day to pack, as they would be surveilling the target for a few days before they could pounce.

"Say what?"

"Don't give me that bull, John." She warned and Soap grunted.

"I don't think you should go. There, you happy now?" he said gruffly but never took his eyes of the road as he spoke.

"We both knew that I was going back out eventually."

"Yes but the doctor only cleared you _yesterday_, Mel." He stressed.

"Honey, I know you're worried." Melissa took his hand "But this is the way it is. I'm glad I'm going with you. I hate waiting at home when you go, wondering all the time if you're ever coming back." Soap was silent at that and they soon pulled into the hangar. He put the gear into park and turned to look at his fiancée properly.

"Melissa," he said seriously "I can't promise that nothing will happen – but I will die first before I let anything happen to you."

"Then let's hope neither of us dies." She said with a crooked smile and leaned in for a kiss. Soap deepened it but kept it short, pulling away when he heard Price's car enter the hangar.

"I love you." she whispered.

"I love you more." He replied and pecked her nose before getting out of the car.

"Whoa, look at this beauty!" Rook wolf whistled at the gleaming white private jet. "Going undercover has benefits!"

"MI5 owes us a favour." Price said while getting his bag out of the boot "They have nothing but the best."

"I don't doubt it." Melissa walked up the steps and into the jet while her fiancé took care of the bags. "Sweet." She nodded approvingly at the interior. There were beige leather seats and wood furnishings, along with the tables, private rooms at the back and a bar. "I haven't been on one of these babies in ages."

"When were you last on one?" Rook asked behind her, sounding surprised.

"Being the granddaughter of a general has its perks." Melissa replied slyly before taking a seat. "Oh yeah, that's good." She sighed in approval as the other two came in.

"Okay, I've just spoken to the pilot. We'll be good to take off in ten minutes." Price stated "So make sure you buckle up!"

"I don't like 'em." Soap grunted, taking his HUD glasses off. They were some of the latest toys from America being limitedly distributed among the armed forces, but because Melissa was friends with the technology's developer, the SAS black-ops had first dibs after the US (to which Mac rewarded Melissa with a nice pay rise). "I can see just fine without them on."

"Honey, these are so cool!" Melissa butted in before Price could open his mouth "GPS locator, tracker, heat signature recognition, Jamie Rice put a lot of bells and whistles in here. It links up with your Interactive Wrist Mounted Display," she waved the flexible screen on the wrist mount "too. With this one you can hack things, run facial recognition and record stuff."

"Warfare's more advanced now, so we'll have to put up with it." Price said, though Soap could tell he wasn't so keen on it either. Price was old-school – shoot first and ask questions later.

"I think they look good on all of you." Melissa said "And look at the ones Jamie made for me!" Melissa pulled out a pair of what looked like her regular black Ray-Ban wayfarers. "Stylish and technologically advanced."

"Okay, enough of playing with the toys." Price ordered "Melissa, can you get the tablet please?"

"Coming right up." She walked over to another table and pulled out a large tablet in industrial casing, like what you would use for tech in a battle zone. She placed it on the table and quickly typed in a password before navigating through the screen. A few seconds later the lights in the casing glowed and a hologram was projected.

"This is the hotel where Darim Al-Aran is staying." Price pointed to the hologram of the right building "We are in the one on the opposite side of the road. The Americans have told us that Al-Aran is under Ultranationalist protection until he cracks those files." The buildings were replaced with photos of the man in question, all screengrabs from CCTV footage "We have his routine downpat. He spends most of the day in his suite on the 109th floor, but around midday he leaves to go to lunch in the elite East Quarter. After about four hours of doing as he pleases he returns to his room, stays for another two hours and then leaves for dinner in the hotel restaurant around seven o'clock."

"When do we grab him?" Rook asked.

"It's too risky to do it in the hotel; there are too many witnesses and too much security. After about three days to make sure we're settled we grab him in the souk." The photos changed to the East Quarter Souk, which was full of stalls and people "If he takes a backstreet we can easily get him in the car."

"What then?" Soap chimed in.

"We make a break for it. Al-Aran will have security tailing him, and they'll know something's off so we have to prepare for a chase. We change cars in a parking structure five minutes away in the industrial district. After that we have to make our way to the airport, where we'll have a jet waiting and scheduled to take off around 1700 hours."

"What about the equipment? Al-Aran won't be taking his computer with him." Melissa pointed out.

"No, we do this in two teams." Price agreed "Soap, you and Rook will get Al-Aran in the souk, Melissa and I will grab the equipment with the files. We'll meet in the souk and loose the attention Melissa and I will probably get in the crowd."

"My professor has sent me a redundancy program he made in advance for the Reaper 100 in case of an event like this." Melissa said. "I'll plug it in once I access Darim's laptop and it'll stop the decryption before it can do anymore damage."

"Okay." Price nodded "We'll work out the finer details on the day. But for now, this is where we stand."


	12. Chapter 12

Armeni Burkad Hotel, Abu Dhabi, 0800 hours…

"Very nice indeed." Price hummed in approval when he looked out at the view. They had a view of the hotel complex, including the sister building across the street. They were on the 109th floor, directly across from Darim Al-Aran and had a perfect view of his room. If the Iranian was concerned about someone watching him, he wasn't showing it. Price used his HUD glasses to zoom in. Right now the younger man was in front of the mirror in his bedroom, doing his tie. "Who's hungry?"

"You're seriously asking that question?" Melissa asked from her place on the couch where she was set up with a laptop "I live with a fiancé who has a bottomless pit for a stomach."

"I could say the same for you." Soap quipped beside her "We never have any pizza left even when we just made it the night before."

"Well, the breakfast menu doesn't include pizza, Soap, so you don't have to worry about Melissa eating the leftovers." Price said and looked around "Where's Rook?"

"Sorry!" the blond man walked into the room "Bathroom." Was all he said in explanation, though somewhat sheepishly. Price was about to open his mouth when there was a knock at the door, making them all freeze. Price motioned with his hand and Soap nodded before he silently directed Melissa to move out of the room. The three men then pulled their guns out of their back holsters and moved to the front door, with Soap and Rook taking a side each while Price looked through the peephole. There was an Arab looking man standing on the other side of the door with a neat beard, combed black hair and wore an expensive suit.

"Who is it?" Price demanded.

"David Strade." The man spoke the code name in an American accent. Price nodded to Soap and Rook, who dropped their stance and Price opened the door, letting the man in. "Sorry about the cloak and dagger." He apologised and stuck out his hand, which Price shook "Isaac Head, I work in the CIA's counter-terror unit. We're grateful for the SAS coming out here. Your reputations precede you, Majors."

"Thank you, come on in." Price directed Isaac to the lounge room and Melissa emerged from the hallway. "Isaac Head, Melissa Morton. She's our tech expert here."

"Ah yes, Melissa also has quite the reputation." Isaac put on a charming smile and shook Melissa's hand "Beautiful and intelligent. That's quite a deadly breed, especially in a Morton."

"Best put that smile away, Mr Head, otherwise my fiancé will take it off." Melissa playfully warned while looking pointedly at Soap. Head turned to see Soap glaring at him icily, and then back to Melissa, now noticing the ring on her finger.

"Sorry, force of habit to turn on the charm. Never know when you need it." Head shrugged "Congratulations."

"Thank you. So, what brings you around, Mr Head?" Melissa questioned, going back to her laptop.

"I'm just here to debrief you and tell you about what our plan is over the next few days. You guys are to watch Darim Al-Aran over the next two days and grab him on the third. As far as we know, he doesn't know we're onto him so he's in a false sense of security right now. The Ultranationalists are guarding him day and night, but when he's out in public they're spread around to avoid suspicion."

"How many men are on rotation to guard him?"

"Six, including the head of security, Yelchin Urolov."

"Urolov? Ursa's brought in the big guns." Soap said. Urolov was as elusive as he was deadly, earning the nickname "The Belgrade Butcher" for his lead role in massacring civilians in an Ultranationalist clean-up after a weapons manufacturing operation. Anyone who worked in the warehouses was killed in an explosion that reduced everything to cinders.

"As you know, your best chance to grab him is in the East Quarter souk. We have the cars and the plane secured and the routes will be calculated in the GPS so that you can make a clean break for the airport." There was another knock at the door and they all went for their guns. "Hold on." Head held his hands out "It should be my attendant with our breakfast." He went to the door, but still had his hand on his gun when he looked through the peephole. He relaxed his grip and opened the door "Sef, thank you for being so quick."

"For you Mr Strade, anything." The attendant replied and bowed to the others. He was pushing a cart with delicious smells wafting off it.

"Can you please set it up in the dining room?"

"Of course sir." He nodded and walked into the corridor. When he was out of earshot, Head spoke again "Sef's a good man, I always request him when I stay here."

"Can he be trusted?" Price asked.

"In this game, Captain, we trust no-one. The less Sef knows, the better, including my real name. Now, I assume you haven't eaten?" he asked and Price gestured him to the dining room, where the attendant was laying out the plates. "Thank you Sef, you're excused until I need you later this afternoon."

"Yes Mr Strade. Please call me for anything else."

"I will." The attendant bowed and left, pushing the empty cart away with him. Everyone sat down at the table which was now piled with lavish amounts of food. There was the typical breakfast goods of bacon and eggs, but there was pancakes, waffles, porridge, fruit, juices, tea and coffee.

"Alright, let's dig in. We have a big day ahead of us." Price ordered.

East Quarter district, Fez Restaurant…

"When I said you need to take me to more exciting places, John, I didn't mean for you to go to such extremes." Melissa joked as Soap pulled out her chair for her. Thanks to Head, they were in one of the exclusive East Quarter restaurants watching Al-Aran in the one across the hall, who himself was just sitting down.

"I try to please." Soap replied and did a quick glance around the restaurant. Price and Rook were at separate tables but still had a good view "Anything for the love of my life."

"You're so corny." She grinned and he smirked before the waiter came over to take their order.

"Yes, I'll take the wellington and the best scotch you have." Soap heard Price's voice ring in his head thanks to his in-ear radio and held back his chuckle. Since the CIA had given them practically limitless credit cards, he was taking full advantage and ordered the most expensive things on the menu. Soap made sure to follow his lead and even though his fiancée ordered something a little less pricey, he had a feeling that she was going to go crazy in the souk and buy up most of the 22 carat gold jewellery. Lunch was uneventful, with the most interesting event being Al-Aran dislodging whatever was stuck in his teeth. After about an hour and a half, they were out of the restaurant and driving to the souk. Soap noted that he hadn't seen much security around the Iranian. Usually they were a lot more conspicuous.

"They were there, on the right side of Al-Aran's restaurant." Price told him when he voiced his concern in the car "There was five of them, Urolov must be hovering around somewhere." They pulled up to the souk entrance and Soap tipped the valet. Since the Emirates were untouched by the war, business was booming as it always had. And so did the gold trade. Fitting in wasn't a problem for Soap when Melissa was on his arm, who bargained with the gold-dealers and came away with some nice trinkets.

"Any more Melissa and I'll have to smuggle it through customs." Soap said and took the heavier out of the two bags "You don't need so much stuff."

"You're not a woman John." She quipped "And when you put a woman, a gold souk and a limitless credit card together, things are gonna happen. But don't worry, this will always be my favourite piece." She waggled her ring finger with her engagement ring and he laughed.

"Soap." It was Price in his ear and Soap tried not to straighten to attention so quickly "Al-Aran has company." Soap's HUD displayed Price's view and he saw the Iranian and Yelchin Urolov arguing. "Someone's not happy." Urolov pushed Al-Aran's shoulder and pointed at him, saliva flying, and they exchanged a few choice words before the Russian stormed off. Al-Aran straightened his suit and walked in the other direction.

"Ursa must be breathing down Urolov's neck if he was that angry. She's getting impatient." Soap said.

"Darim has over 100 files to decrypt, it takes time." Melissa explained.

"How much further has he got to go?"

"At the rates I was given, he has another three or four days before he can finish properly."

"So we still have time. We can have this wrapped up with a nice little bow in time for me to get back for the wife's birthday." Price said "But now that we know the state of things, we need to keep more of an eye out. Is there any way he can decrypt the files ahead of time?"

"He could, but it's not recommended. Reapers are delicate. One wrong move and zip, everything's deleted. I'd need his computer to see how far he is along."

"Well, we can't exactly do that right now. We have forty-eight hours until show time."


	13. Chapter 13

Day of the operation, 0530 hours…

"Melissa, Mel, wake up." Melissa grunted and pushed herself deeper into the mattress while tightening her grip on his arm around her waist, which earned a defeated sigh. Soap would never be able to make her a morning person, no matter how hard he tried. He had sent her to bed early while he and Price made sure their equipment was up to scratch. Rook had continued surveillance on Darim's apartment, but there was nothing new. It was nine hours until show time, and as tempted as he was to let his fiancée sleep in, Soap knew they had to get ready. "Mel, come on." He spoke louder this time and shook her a little.

"Too early, go away." He heard her mumble and shook his head. Soap got up in one smooth motion, pulling the duvet with him. This instantly made Melissa curl into the foetal position.

"Oh no you don't." he said in an authoritative voice "You're not worming your way out of this one." Melissa rolled over to face him. Her light brown hair was a mess and her hazel eyes were red rimmed and sleepy.

"Come back to bed." She said in a hoarse voice, holding out her hand. That almost made Soap crack, but he steeled his resolve, straightened his backbone and took a deep breath. Quickly so that she didn't have time to escape, he bent over, pulled her into his arms and carried her to the bathroom, earning a gasp of surprise. "What are you doing?!" she exclaimed, though Soap knew she had a pretty good idea of what he was planning when he set her down on the tiles and locked the bathroom door. Melissa shrieked in indignation when she suddenly found herself under the cold shower spray. "JOHN!" Soap chuckled at the sight of his fiancée trying to get away from the water by pressing herself into the corner of the large shower. He reached in and turned on the hot water.

"You had to wake up eventually!" he said over the loud sound of the running water before leaving her to her own devices. He walked out of their bedroom and towards the dining room, where Price was waiting with Rook and Isaac Head.

"Everything alright?" Price asked.

"We'll see when she gets out of the bathroom." Soap replied "Anything new with the nerd?"

"No." the CIA agent shook his head "He's still blissfully unaware, as are his bodyguards. We should be fine to go forward with Operation Snatch."

"You come up with those names yourself?" Soap snapped before a knock sounded on the door. It was Sef with their breakfast. After the manservant had set up the food and left, Soap heard Melissa's footsteps pounding down the hallway. Before she could make a scene and bite his head off in front of everyone, Soap intercepted her in the hall and pulled her into the sitting room. He looked her over. She was scrubbed and brushed, sans make-up and was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and boots. She was clean and well-dressed, but the expression on her face could scare even Price. "Before you get angry -" he started.

"Damn right I'm angry." She hissed. Oh no, she was in a mood. Soap reminded himself to tread lightly.

"I wanted to let you sleep, but today is a big day." He explained and Melissa narrowed her eyes.

"I know that! But did you have to throw me in a cold shower?!"

"I only do it in extreme circumstances!" he protested "Come on Mel, don't be mad." His fiancée huffed. There was a beat of silence before she spoke again.

"Is breakfast here?" Soap grinned internally. She wasn't really mad, just pissed off a little. Nothing some food couldn't cure. They were similar in that regard. He slung an arm around her shoulders and guided her to the dining room, pulling out a chair for her before taking his own seat.

Armeni Burkard Hotel Tower 2, 109th floor room 10911, 1330 hours…

"Who is it?" the Ultranationalist guard asked and glanced through the peephole. A man with a red beard was the last thing he saw before the bullets hit him through the door. Price slammed his body against the door, busting it open in a shower of splinters but luckily it stayed in its hinges. He took down another guard running through the foyer before Melissa came in after him with her own gun raised. She quietly closed the door behind her and followed Price through the luxury apartment, separating at the den where Al-Aran's computers were set up. She quickly put down her satchel bag and tapped various keys on the central laptop. Price walked in a second later.

"We're clear, it was just those two." He reported "What's the situation here?"

"The decryption is still going; there are only fifty files left." Melissa said and pulled put a USB key "This bug will stall it until I can undo the damage."

"Will that work?"

"Never doubt the master." Melissa plugged in the USB and pulled out another laptop from the satchel, this time plugging it into the main machine. "I'll download this guy's other stuff we need onto this machine for later digging."

"How long will that take?"

"About three minutes."

"All of it? I'm not a computer whiz but I know all that data will take a long time to download."

"We don't need all of it, just the relevant stuff. When it's downloaded I'll send a scrubber into the system that'll destroy everything else, leaving Ursa or anyone who tries to take advantage of the information with nothing."

"Very good." Price pulled out his phone and tapped out a number. After a single ring the line was open.

"We're on schedule."

"Good." Soap's voice came over the line "How's the weather?" Price looked at Melissa, who was closing Darim's laptop "Is the sun shining?"

"Not a cloud in sight. When are you picking up the groceries?"

"Not long. I'll meet you at the supermarket."

"See you there." Price stopped the call as Melissa packed away both laptops. "You done?" he asked.

"All set." She nodded and they walked out of the room, making their way to the elevator and the garage where a black Lexus was waiting in the assigned parking spot. They got in and Price quickly started the car.

East Quarter Souk…

"Geez, this guy's probably bought ten perfumes today. He could put my sister to shame." Rook quipped as he and Soap watched Al-Aran in one of the shops. They noted that his guards were spread out unevenly over the souk, again with Yelchin Urolov missing.

"Good thing," Soap thought as he undid the zoom through his HUD view "otherwise he might have spotted us."

"He's heading towards the pick-up point." Rook said, and that immediately got Soap's attention. The Iranian was indeed walking out of the shop and towards the alley where the car was waiting. Soap noticed Rook walking ahead on the other side and down the empty side street where the car was parked. He followed Darim into the alley and quickly set upon him, grabbing his neck and elbows. The Iranian cried out in surprise and fear and tried to fight him off to no avail. Rook opened the boot and Soap threw Darim in before quickly hopping into the driver's seat. "Go go!" Soap didn't need to be told twice as he started the car and put it into gear. He sped off and looked in the rear-view just as the body guard platoon ran into the alley, pointing and yelling.

"We don't have much time before they're onto us." Soap said as he pulled out into the main road. Rook reached over to the touch screen in the central console and brought up the number that said "Ally". He pressed it and it dialled, ringing once before someone picked up.

"Soap, Rook, tell me you have him." Price's voice boomed over the speaker.

"Yeah, we do." Soap said while swerving in front of a slow car "But the Russians saw us. They'll be on our tail in a minute."

"That can't be helped. We'll meet you at the rendezvous! Over and out!" the line cut out, and Soap was only able to re-train his eyes for a minute before Rook said while looking in the side mirror –

"Uh, I think they'll be quicker than a minute."

"What?" Soap was cut off by a burst of gunfire "Shit!" he looked in the mirror on the driver's side and saw a familiar figure leaning out the window of a black Range Rover "It's Urolov! The others must have called him from the souk!"

"Can we lose him?!"

"Hold on!" Soap hit the accelerator and sped through the traffic, weaving and dodging cars and getting into spaces. But the Ultranationalists were still on their tail, not afraid to ram cars or cause an accident. Soap looked at the GPS and saw they were a minute away from the rendezvous. He weaved his way around and pulled off to the exit "Try to get one of their wheels!" Soap ordered and Rook nodded, opening the sunroof and undoing his seatbelt. Soap heard the shots as he aimed and fired, and then heard tires screeching. Rook came back down a second later.

"That should give us some time."

"Good." Soap replied and sped into the rendezvous – an almost-completed parking structure. He went up to the second level, where a single car was waiting, a red BMW. Soap pulled the car into a screeching park a meter away from it and quickly put it in park getting out and opening the boot. Darim Al-Aran was rolling from side to side, groaning and muttering nonsense in Farsi. "Come on you." Soap said gruffly and pulled him out, dragging him to the new car and throwing him in its boot. Rook shut the lid just as they heard another car coming. They immediately pulled out their guns, but lowered them when they saw it blink its headlights. Price and Melissa stepped out and Melissa ran over into her fiancé's open arms. "Are you alright?" he asked and she nodded against his chest.

"Yeah, you?" she questioned, looking up at him.

"We had a close shave, but we'd better get going." Soap said, looking at Price, who nodded.

"Where is he?" the older man asked and Melissa's head whipped around when she heard a muffled shout coming from the car.

"Honey…is there a human being in the trunk?" she asked, pointing.

"There wouldn't be enough room for all of you in the backseat, let's go!" he said, guiding her to the car and putting her in the back, with Rook following. Price got into the driver's seat and put the car in drive. When they were a few meters away, Soap pressed the red button on the remotes to both cars and after a few seconds – BOOM! Melissa cried out in surprise and ducked, her hands covering her head. Soap reached back and grabbed one of her hands to steady her, now wishing that he was sitting next to her. "Sorry." He apologized and threw the remotes out of the window.

"I don't see anyone following us." Rook reported, looking out the back window.

"Don't count our luck just yet, Urolov's a persistent bastard." Price said "Just enjoy the quiet while you can." He tapped the screen and dialled a number marked "Pilot". "This is Black Viking, target acquired."

"Roger that." A voice with a rough Newcastle accent replied "Apollo is awaiting your arrival, report ETA."

"Five minutes, over and out." The line cut and Soap looked back at his fiancée. She had finally sat up and let go of his hand, but she still looked a little shaken and was twisting her engagement ring around her finger.

"Hey," he said to get her attention and she looked at him "everything's going to be fine." He reassured her. After a beat, Melissa pressed her lips together and nodded her head. Soap turned to the front in his seat and resumed observing the mirrors for any signs of being tailed. Everything had gone quiet, which made him somewhat uneasy. Even the man in the boot wasn't making a peep, probably having resigned himself to his fate.

After a silent drive to the airport on the outskirts of the city, the car drove onto the tarmac and was directed to the military transport awaiting them. The foursome got out of the car and the soldiers hauled the Iranian out of the boot, and then strapped him into a seat, cuffing his wrists and giving him a jab with a needle full of sedatives. Melissa sighed loudly and sat on one of the seats on the opposite side, closing her eyes. She felt someone sit next to her and she fell into his side, knowing it was Soap. He immediately put an arm around her shoulders and leant back. It was going to be a long ride.

The next day, 1200 hours, Melissa's office…

"Mel, are you ready?" Soap asked when he walked through the glass doors to Melissa's office. His fiancée was sprawled out on the black leather couch against the back wall with her face smushed up against one of the cushions. At the sound of his voice Melissa opened her eyes. "Sorry." He apologised and walked over, crouching down in front of her and brushing a stray hair away from her face "Did I wake you up?"

"No." Melissa attempted to shake her head at the awkward angle. "I just needed to close my eyes."

"You had a rough night." he stated as she sat up and ran her fingers through her messy hair "Are the bad dreams coming back?"

"I'm not sure. I guess it's just the adrenaline. After all, it was my first mission back in the field."

"You did great, Melissa, I'm really proud of you." she smiled at his compliment "Considering how under the wire we were for a minute, we pulled it off."

"Yeah, we did good." Melissa took the hand that was reaching for her and pressed it to her lips "Did you just come from Mac's office?" Soap nodded.

"He's very pleased, he got on the phone to the Americans after we arrived. We're sending the goods back to them after we're finished with it."

"If he's happy, then everyone's happy." Melissa finished the sentence with a yawn.

"Okay, time to get some food in you and raise your blood sugar." Soap pulled her off the couch "With any luck Rook left us some potatoes."


	14. Chapter 14

Hereford, 1530 hours, Mac's office…

"Ultranationalist chatter has been through the roof over the last 24 hours, since the capture of Darim Al-Aran and the recovery of the hacked files." Mac said to Soap, Price, Melissa and Rook "Ursa is reportedly furious, and has ordered the hit of another target."

"Who is it?" Price asked and Mac shook his head.

"We only know a codename – The Mechanist."

"That's so cliché." Melissa scoffed and Mac's lips quirked a little.

"Because you were busy, Melissa, I asked Connie O'Toole to do a search. We were able to access CIA and MI5 files, and discovered that the Mechanist is at Camp Southern."

"Camp Southern? So the Mechanist is an inventor?" Melissa flashed back to her own experiences at the "camp", in actuality a highly top-secret facility where some of the newest toys and code cracks were created. It had to outward appearance of a corporate, glass skyscraper, which stuck out like a sore thumb a few kilometres outside of London.

"According to the documents, the Mechanist has been locked away at the camp for the past six weeks, working on classified material. As you all know, some of our most advanced equipment is made and stored there."

"If Ursa grabs the Mechanist she could force him to give up schematics or make things for her." Rook pointed out and Mac nodded.

"We assume that Ursa has an inside source, she never would have been able to gather the information otherwise. But we don't think she wants the Mechanist for herself – she wants to kill him. If that happens we lose a creative genius responsible for making some of the tools that have earned us many victories."

"Take out the brain, you take out the production line." Melissa said "What are we going to do?"

"If there is indeed a mole in the camp, we don't want to spook him, but all parties agree that we need to get the Mechanist out of there. Melissa has been at Camp Southern before, so her presence won't arouse suspicion. She'll go undercover to work as a brain again, and I'll get special passes for the rest of you brutes. Make sure to remain inconspicuous."

"When do we make way?" Price asked.

"0600 tomorrow morning. Should things go as planned, you get the Mechanist out within 24 hours and bring him to Hereford."

Soap and Melissa's house, 1930 hours…

"Come on you bastards! That was the best opportunity you had!" Soap yelled at the football on the television and he heard his fiancée giggle in the background "Pathetic wankers." He muttered and chugged the rest of his beer.

"Don't be too harsh John." He looked around to see her smirking and knew that she was mockingly patronising him "It's just a game."

"It's the first game of the year! How can they get that bad in such a short amount of time?!" he asked as she walked around the couch and sat on his lap. Melissa sighed and laced her hands together at the back of his neck.

"Not everyone can have your perfect conditioning, sweetie. Now," she took the beer bottle out of his hand and placed it on the coffee table "save your energy for dragging me out of bed at 5am tomorrow. I depend on you for getting me to places on time."

"Who else would be your knight in shining armour?" he teased and she raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I always thought that Rook was quite the gentlemen – whoa!" Soap had stood abruptly, taking her in his arms as he went and started walking to their room.

"I show you what I real gentlemen I can be." He growled and he distinctly felt her shiver before she quickly recovered.

"Well, I do like my men scruffier around the edges." He felt Melissa rub his five o'clock stubble and struggled not to smirk. "Oh, wait! I didn't finish the dishes!"

"Later."

Camp Southern, location classified, 0843 hours…

"Miss Morton, welcome back to our humble abode."

"Professor Parish, thank you for having me." Melissa smiled back at the middle aged man who Soap thought looked like Einstein if he knew how to use hair product "This is Major MacTavish, Major Price and Lieutenant Creed."

"Ah, yes, I hear you all make quite an industrious little war machine." The professor smiled, but none of the men returned it "Um, well then, should we get going?"

"Yes, please." The four followed the older man off the tarmac and into two jeeps, where they drove to an imposing seven storey glass building. The camp was a little village, with the tower at the centre and several barracks which housed personal quarters. The camp was equipped with its own airfield with five planes, enough to fly all staff away in the event of an emergency. Soap made tactical notes in his head while Price drove, noting that there wasn't a lot of cover in the event of an attack. A few minutes later everyone was in the professor's office, with Melissa being the only one of the team sitting across the highly polished oak desk. "I must admit, the message I received yesterday was rather troubling. I assume you'll be carrying out this -" Price held up his hand to quiet the professor and Soap noticed his eyes slowly searching the room. So he wasn't the only one who thought so. He zeroed in on the bachelor's award behind Professor Parish's desk and motioned Soap to move. Soap walked around and took the frame off the wall and turned it around, where it revealed a black square with a wire coming out of the side. Parish opened his mouth but Melissa shook her head, causing him to close it. Price and Rook then split, both of them finding one in the bookshelf and the console table. "My God…"

"The device says that's all of them." Melissa declared, looking at her interactive wrist mount that was hidden under her sleeve. "How did you guys know?"

"My spidey senses tingled." Price quipped and crushed the last bug under his shoe "So know we know for sure there's a mole. As for your earlier question, Professor Parish, we aim to be discreet, though if it boils down to it, "quiet" can't be guaranteed. Where is the Mechanist located?"

"On the top two floors, where we have the prototypes in final development before they go to other labs for construction. The Mechanist is only here for another week, how do the Ultranationalists even know -"

"Their numbers may be diminished but they have eyes and ears everywhere. Do you have any idea who the mole may be?"

"None! The security guards are rotated every six weeks and the most of the permanent staff have been here before the beginning of World War Three!"

"Well, someone is squealing, otherwise we wouldn't be in this lovely establishment crushing bugs. We need to get the Mechanist and move as soon as we can."

"Unfortunately, you can't right now." Parish took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose "I have three developers, including the Mechanist, on a bender."

"On a what?" Soap questioned.

"It's when they trap the brains in a box for 72 hours to squeeze the brilliance out of them. More or less." Melissa explained "I'm not doing one of those again, that's for sure."

"Miss Morton is correct, though somewhat exaggerating. We place our developers on the sixth floor, which is locked down for 72 hours so that they can concentrate on bringing out new ideas and improving old ones. Some of our best tools have been made because of this."

"When do they get out?" Melissa asked.

"In about two hours."

"Price, the Mechanist will be exhausted after his little tech orgy. We can't afford for him to be lagging behind." Rook pointed out and Soap saw Melissa roll her eyes at the "orgy" comment.

"We'll make sure he keeps the pace. In the meantime this gives us an opportunity to plan our escape. They'll be onto us now that we've cut off their ears." Melissa took a bug off the floor and examined it.

"This is a transmitting bug, not just a recording one. Someone was definitely listening in. Oh shit."

"What?!" Price demanded.

"The bug can transmit in real time and has a warning system in case of damage." Soap and Price looked at each other. The mole could have received instructions the moment they destroyed them and could be on their way to the target.

"Could someone have been warned?"

"With this model? Most likely."

"Alright, change of plans, we're stopping the bender early and getting the Mechanist out of here. Professor, call ahead and tell the ground crew to fire up the plane and make sure there's transport ready to get us to the tarmac."

"Take this." The professor took a grey card out of his top desk drawer and handed it to Melissa "It will allow you to access the sixth floor."

"Soap, Melissa, go ahead, Rook and I will make sure the arrangements are made properly." Melissa nodded and didn't wait for her fiancé as she walked out of the office and down the hall towards the elevator. She pressed the call button and the doors immediately opened and she stepped in, but was startled by Soap's voice –

"Mel, wait!" she thought that he was right behind her, but he must have been held up by Price giving him instructions. Melissa hit the door open button but it did the exact opposite and the doors closed, no matter how hard she hit the button. She heard Soap curse loudly and felt the adrenaline begin to rush through her body. The lights suddenly shut off which made the rush worse.

"John!" she shouted, pounding the doors.

"Melissa! Are you okay?!" his voice was muffled by the doors.

"Yeah, but no matter how hard I tried the doors closed on their own! The emergency lights are on and the elevator's not moving!" she heard another voice calling out faintly and she heard Soap call back to it, relaying what she told him. There was a small moment of conversation before he called out again.

"Parish thinks someone's disabled the elevators and the emergency stair doors are locked! The mole's probably in the security office a few buildings over!"

"I'm heading up through the elevator shaft!"

"No, it's too dangerous!"

"You would do it!" there was no response to that "There could be another mole on his way to kill the Mechanist right now, I have to get there before he does!"

"Alright! But be careful!"

"I will!" Melissa walked to the corner and pulled the emergency manual latch. A panel in the roof opened and small metal ladder slid down. Melissa wasted no time climbing out of the metal box to the shaft and looked up. It seemed like a bit of a climb, and the dark grey concrete only made it look less appealing. With a huff of breath she re-adjusted the satchel on her back and walked to the ladder on the wall to begin her ascent. By the third floor she noticed frantic voices echoing into the shaft. The employees had caught on that something was wrong and were now like rats trapped in a maze. "Come on, faster!" she mumbled to herself and continued to climb until she reached level six. Melissa was wondering how she was going to pry the door open when she noticed a card access slot, like one she noticed in the elevator before Soap got locked out. "They're so paranoid." She muttered and pulled the access card Parish gave her out of her pants pocket. She pushed it into the slot and was rewarded with a green light and the doors opening. Melissa climbed into the hallway and noticed red lights blinking on the walls. Parish must have triggered some kind of alarm. Melissa pulled her sidearm out of her satchel and looked around in time to see a man dressed in black security fatigues rounding the corner and before she knew it they were pointing weapons at each other and sizing each other up.

"Stand down! I'm with the SAS!" she called out and she saw something flicker in the guards' eyes.

"You don't sound like it." he replied in a rough voice. There was a pause before she replied.

"That's what they all say." And she shot twice, sending him to the floor. Melissa remembered that nobody, not even security, were permitted in the hallways during "benders". They were only allowed up to the fifth floor. Melissa walked to the bullet-proof glass door at the end of the hall and pushed in the access card in another slot. The doors swept open and Melissa cautiously walked in, gun ready. The room was cluttered with parts on benches and computers. "I'm not here to hurt anyone." She called out to the developers she knew were hiding "I'm with the SAS." It took a few beats but she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She whirled around and aimed but almost immediately dropped her gun. "Jamie Rice?"

"Melissa?" a small statured Asian girl mirrored her shocked expression. Melissa walked over and pulled her friend into a tight hug. "Oh my God!"

"I should have known the Mechanist was you. That's your favourite Jason Statham movie." Melissa laughed. Jamie giggled.

"What are you doing here?" she asked and pulled away a little so that they were looking at each other properly.

"Rescuing you. The Ultranationalists have you on their hit list." Jamie's eyes boggled.

"What?!"

"I'll explain more later, but we have to get you out of here."

"But the others -"

"Will be fine, they aren't being targeted." Melissa cut her off and Jamie's eyes widened. Melissa quickly turned and shot the security guard who was about to take them out.

"There's more than we thought. We can't go out in the hallway."

"Then we go out the window." she heard her friend say in a-matter-of-fact voice and Melissa turned to her with a confused look on her face. Jamie was standing next to a bench, grabbing things and putting stuff in a satchel like hers.

"Okay, I know how tough benders are but you've clearly lost your mind."

"Nuh uh." Jamie pulled up what looked like a grapple gun. "We can take a five second trip down to the ground floor."

"I'll cut the glass, you get them ready." Melissa ordered and Jamie nodded. Melissa heard her scurrying around the lab while she cut an "X" into a floor-to-ceiling window. After that was done Melissa glanced around for…perfect. Locking her core and making sure her stance was firm, Melissa hurled one of the nearby computer monitors out the window, effectively creating an opening.

"Stand back." Melissa turned around to see Jamie holding a black tube in her hands and didn't question her, rather moving back a few steps before Jamie threw the tube, which made a loud "pop" sound and Melissa was amazed to see thick black rope shoot out of it in both directions. "The top should be latched on to the roof, we can slide down now."

"How did you – never mind, you can tell me all the juicy details later." Melissa motioned Jamie to go first and she obeyed. Melissa poked her head out to see her friend slide down the rope safely and quickly followed. Once they were on the ground Melissa grabbed her phone and called her fiancé.

"Melissa! Are you alright?" was his immediate question before she could get a word in.

"John, I'm fine. I have the Mechanist, where are you?"

"We're heading back to the main block, whoever shut off the elevator is long gone but they left a few bodies behind. Parish is waiting for you at the front of the building, he'll be taking you to the plane." That made Melissa pause and she held Jamie back with her.

"What about you?" she heard Soap take a prepatory breath, and she knew that he was going to say something she wouldn't like.

"Price, Rook and I are staying behind."

"WHAT?! John, no! What the hell -"

"Mac just gave us orders! You're needed back at Hereford!" That made her quiet. It must be urgent if Mac was pulling her "The boys and I have to stay and clean up the mess. If all goes well I'll see you the day after tomorrow."

"Okay. But I don't like it."

"I know. I love you."

"I love you too. Be safe." And with that Melissa closed her phone, and she felt her facial muscles contort against her will. She saw Jamie examining her out of the corner of her eye. Before she could ask anything, Melissa said – "Let's go." She pulled her friend along to the front of the building where, true to Soap's word, Parish was pulling around in a BMW.


	15. Chapter 15

Several hours later…

"Please state identification."

"Access code Mojave Rattlesnake. I need a line to Red Sunlight."

"Confirmed – please hold." Melissa waited for a picture and smiled when a face finally come on the screen.

"Melissa Morton." A man in his twenties leant back in his chair with an ear to ear grin. He was long and lean, with dirty blond hair stylishly gelled back and rectangular framed glasses on his nose "You're looking as sexy as ever."

"Thanks Harley. You're looking particularly suave today. Hot date?" Melissa teased the man on the other end, pointing out his suit jacket that he was wearing over his t-shirt. Harley rolled his eyes.

"Please, you know I just threw this on." His eyes then widened drastically "Oh my God! What is that on your finger?!"

"What, oh, you mean this old thing?" Melissa asked nonchalantly and held up her ring finger "Just something my fiancé gave me."

"Damn girl! Look at you, all engaged and whatever! Some of the boys back home are going to be devastated!"

"I'm not, you'll see why if you ever set eyes on my fiancé. And yes, he's _definitely_ straight." She added with a wink and Harley fanned himself with his hand.

"Whoa, this is getting a little hot under the collar!"

"Hey, this means more for you back at home, right?"

"We can chat about who's marrying who later." Melissa turned to see Mac walking into her office. She cleared her throat and felt her face heat up.

"Uh, Mac, this is Harley Keppler, a hacker for the CIA, we go way back." she motioned to Harley on the screen, who waved "Harley, this is my boss, Commander John MacMillan of the SAS."

"Mr Keppler, I dragged Melissa off an assignment so that you could talk to us, since you demanded only her. This had better be important."

"Yes sir, it is." Harley answered seriously and tapped a few keys on his tablet so that the screen split so rows of data came up on one side "Since the SAS foiled Ursa's plans on decrypting our joint files, we've been ordered to be on the lookout in case she tries again. At 0630 hours this morning we detected an aggressive attack to our firewall."

"Did the attack do any damage?" Mac questioned. Harley shook his head.

"No it didn't."

"Okay, so why are you calling me?" Melissa asked and the man on the screen paused, like he was trying to choose his words. "Harley, what is it?" she said in a hard tone.

"The attack did no damage because they weren't trying to steal – whoever it was, they trying to implant a virus into our data stream. It's one that Melissa is familiar with." The data on the side of the screen finished piling up and Melissa read the code. Mac watched her expression carefully as her lips moved silently while she read it to herself, her eyes becoming wider with every line.

"Harley, this is -" she started in a fearful tone.

"I know, I had the same reaction, which is why I came to you."

"What is it poppet?" Mac asked, placing his hand on her shoulder. Melissa faced him and all colour had been drained from her face.

"It's mine." It took a few seconds for Mac to process her words, until he said –

"WHAT?" Melissa flinched "Sorry, poppet, I didn't mean to yell at you. What do you mean it's yours?"

"Last year when I was at Camp Southern, I created a virus known as the Back Track."

"And this is it?" Melissa nodded, along with Harley "What does it do?"

"The virus is designed to infiltrate a system, and then sit until the host computer is turned on. It records what the user does and allows the hacker to go back over the collected data while the virus streams information in real time. Essentially, it's like you're sitting at the computer you're hacking into."

"So people can get any kind of information they want with this?"

"Yes." Melissa nodded "But you have to use it correctly. One wrong line of code and you have a redundant virus. Only Level A users like Harley and I can use the Back Track."

"Ah yes, I remember the report after you returned to base." Mac rubbed his chin "All the major intelligence agencies had been briefed on your creation and created safeguards."

"Which is how we were able to stop it." Harley intervened "The virus didn't fail because the code was incorrect; it's because we were prepared."

"So Ursa has another hacker on her payroll – and another mole at Southern probably gave her the virus." Melissa said and turned back to the screen "Harley, did you trace the hack?" the blond man shook his head.

"We're still trying, but I thought you needed to know."

"Thank you, I appreciate it. Let me know if you need any help."

"You'll be the first person I call. I expect an invitation in the mail soon!"

"Bye Harley." Melissa laughed and ended the call. Almost immediately her face turned grim "This isn't good."

"No, it's not. But they were stopped, that's the important thing." Mac said and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder "It's not your fault."

"Thanks Mac."

"On to another topic, though." Mac folded his hands in front of him and put on a serious face "The supervising staff at Credenhill are pulling members of the 22nd for their review." It took Melissa a few seconds but she realised what it meant. The disappointment must have shown on her face because Mac looked sympathetic "Sorry poppet, but Soap won't be back straight away."

"Do you know how long they intend to hold them?"

"Reviews take a full day, but it depends on when the lads finish their current assignment. Hopefully they won't be a few days. In the meantime, get some rest. You've had a big one today."

"Yeah, no kidding." Melissa sighed but then she had an idea "Where's Jamie?"

"She should be in the guest barracks, I heard they finished processing her."

"When is she due to fly back to America?"

"Saturday."

"So she has three days to kill. Mind if I show her around the place?" Mac smiled at her question.

"By all means. I suppose you have some catching up to do." Mac was about to step out of the room when the dial tone on the Melissamatron went off. Melissa pressed the answer button on her tablet.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Miss Morton," it was voice Sandra, Mac's secretary "is the Commander still there with you?"

"Yes Sandra, what is it?" Mac asked, walking back to Melissa's side.

"We have a call waiting from Camp Southern – it's Major Price." Melissa looked at Mac, wide eyed but he kept his gaze on the screen.

"Melissa, make sure the line is secure; put him through, Sandra."

"Yes sir." The brunette disappeared from the screen and Price took over the picture with his ever present cigar burning. Soap and Rook were beside him.

"Hello lads – good news I suppose?" Mac said and Price nodded.

"We have a few rats in the basement to bring home."

"How many?"

"Twelve total, six dead."

"Good. Unfortunately boys, you won't be coming home right now. I got a call from the staff at Credenhill, you three are due for assessment."

"Are you serious?" That was Soap and his face was morphed into a scowl.

"If all goes well you will all be back to your own beds the day after tomorrow, three days at most. Take the rats with you, I'm sure Major Cromwell has been restless with no toys to play with." Mac said. Major Joseph "Breaker" Cromwell was renowned and notorious for his sadistic streak and his application of it to prisoners.

"Understood." Price nodded but then focused on Melissa "Is everything alright?" Melissa looked at Mac and he nodded. She turned back to the screen.

"I just got off a call from a friend in the CIA. Earlier this morning they detected a hacking attempt on their firewall which was deflected, and they have no doubt that it's Ursa's doing. The virus that they tried to use was one I created at Camp Southern last year." She explained and she watched as Soap and Price looked at each other. They knew how serious this was.

"In that case, we'll make sure to have a chat with the rats as soon as Major Cromwell has finished his turn." Price said after a moment. "We'll see you upon our return." The screen cut out as the call finished.


	16. Chapter 16

0700 hours, the next morning…

"Morning boys." Major Joseph "Breaker" Cromwell's voice echoed in the concrete hallway as Soap and Price walked down it. Rook was having his turn of assessment, and Price suggested a "visit" to the prisoners while he and Soap were waiting for their turns. Breaker was a stocky man in his forties with a clean-shaven face but hard lines around his mouth and eyes. His dark brown hair was shaved back and he was dressed in standard pants and a black shirt with heavy boots. He was the picture of a hardened soldier who had seen his fair share.

"Breaker." Price nodded "How are our guests?" the other gentleman blew out his cigarette smoke before answering.

"Some are more co-operative than others. Thanks for bringing me some new meat, I needed some practice."

"Our pleasure." Soap said "Did they give up anything important?"

"I'm compiling a report from yesterday, but it's not much. With the Ultranationalist leaders' pattern of bouncing around the place, I doubt any of them know where they are. Commander MacMillan has sent me a shopping list of things I should be focusing on, but he said that you needed a turn for something."

"A member of our team was informed by a contact that the Ultranationalists tried to use a virus she created against the CIA. We need to know what they were trying to achieve." Breaker's eyebrows rose at Price's explanation and he pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against.

"I'll get my men to prep the prisoners. I'll call you when we're ready."

"Good." Price nodded and the other man walked away. He turned to Soap.

"Did you get a chance to talk to Melissa last night?"

"No, I didn't, but I was able to send her a message this morning. Hopefully she's not worrying about this too much." Soap replied and they walked back up the hallway.

"Mac's reassured her. Right now she probably has her nose in a bridal magazine and arguing with the planner over the dress."

Meanwhile, at Hereford…

"I hate you!"

"No you don't, otherwise you wouldn't have made me breakfast this morning!"

"That was before I knew what you had planned today!" Melissa yelled back. She and Jamie were playing with Jamie's newest invention that she was able to take from Camp Southern – contact climbing gloves. They were able to adhere to any surface, like suction cups, and could hold up to 200 kilograms of weight. Even though they were harnessed for safety, the invention would possibly eliminate the need for ropes and hooks and would save time for soldiers who were in high risk areas. They were currently on the side of one of Hereford's old brick buildings, which had a rougher surface that was easier to climb.

"Hey, I told you what I wanted to do and you agreed!" Jamie pointed out and Melissa groaned. "This beats yoga, doesn't it?" Melissa made a face.

"Miss Morton! Miss Morton!" she whirled her head around to see where the voice was coming from "Down here!" it was a soldier who she recognised as one of Mac's assistants.

"Yes?! What's wrong?!" she yelled down.

"The commander is requesting you to get to your office immediately! He says that a Mr Keppler is waiting for you!"

"Harley Keppler?" Jamie asked, looking taken aback "Melissa, what's going on?"

"Sorry Jamie, I can't say." Melissa apologised and then looked up to the soldier maintaining the safety line "Okay, time to let me down!"

"Harley, what's going on?" Melissa asked as she barged into her office with Mac on her heels. The older man had been waiting for her outside of the building. The American man on the screen was typing away on his own Animatronic tablet.

"We've detected another attempt to use the Back Track." He said as Melissa grabbed her tablet and began pressing buttons "I'm trying to stall the fight system so that I can get a fix on the IP but I need your help."

"Okay, keep doing what you're doing, I'll run the trace. Linking up to the CIA firewall protection grid." Melissa typed on her tablet rapidly and watched her Animatronic screen "Running reverse sequencing now."

"Can you pinpoint their location?" Mac asked at her side but Melissa didn't even look at him when she answered, keeping her eyes focused on her screen.

"If they stay in cyberspace long enough, yeah I can. Harley, how long have they been going at it?"

"They started five minutes ago; our firewalls are tougher than they were anticipating."

"Let them think they're chipping away at it, I've almost got them."

"Mel, I don't think I can, they're already too close!"

"Come on Harley, I know you can fend them off! Thirty seconds!"

"What's the delay?" Mac demanded.

"They're using a maze to deflect their signal off other IPs around the world. I'm going from Cyprus to Auckland and then around to Manila." Mac watched the screen. A yellow line representing the trace was going around the world map while code was being collated on the right side "They're good, but I'm better."

"They're not far off!" Harley warned with a slightly panicked look on his face.

"A few more seconds aaand – bam! Harley, shut them out!"

"Will do!" Harley worked his tablet and smiled a second later "Attempt purged."

"Please tell me you have a location."

"Hold on…there." Melissa pointed to the map at the red dot "The Swiss Alps."

"Mr Keppler, thank you for your services. We'll be in touch." Mac addressed the man on the screen and Harley nodded.

"Until next time." He disappeared and the regular screen came back. Mac turned to Melissa.

"The Ultranationalists may have tried to hack the CIA, but they used your virus to do it. I'll get onto the director of the CIA and tell him that we'll be taking point on this. He won't like it, but their numbers are down at the moment and he'll have no choice to accept when I get the backing of MI6. Did you get an exact location?"

"IP location is a chalet on the west side of the Alps." A picture of a two storey wood and stone mansion appeared, capped with snow "That area is comprised mainly of private residences."

"Our closest people are in Germany, I'll organize the infiltration." He began to walk out of the office but Melissa called out to him.

"Hey, Mac, do you think it's all a little strange?" the older man quirked a brow and turned back to face her.

"How do you mean?"

"The Ultranationalists. They hack a highly secure database, bomb out miserably and then try again the next day? No more TV station hacks or bomb threats? Ursa's actions haven't been making any sense lately."

"That woman's running out of cards to play. What she's doing are acts of desperation and she knows it, otherwise she wouldn't have tried to hack the CIA twice in two days. She has next to no resources and no manpower, since many of her council has gone to ground to avoid prosecution. It doesn't help that we screw up her plans at every turn either."

"So what's our next move?"

"Get to this hacker in Switzerland and hope that we can find a lead."

Three days later…

Melissa threw the bridal magazine she was flipping through onto the couch and ran her hands over her face with a groan. Jamie had gone back to America that morning and now she was waiting for her fiancé to come home. The SAS team that had gone to Switzerland came back with nothing, as the only man in the target chalet shot himself once he saw them coming, but not before destroying the computers and equipment he had been using. Melissa glared at the smiling woman on the cover, dressed in a frothy gown that looked more like a meringue than a dress to wear down the aisle.

"You think you have everything managed, don't you?" she sniped "I must be losing it if I'm talking to a magazine." She sighed and picked it up again. Jamie had managed to help her narrow it down from the choices she had made with Connie, but that was still over twenty dresses to pick from. After the war, many large businesses had gone broke and defunct in Europe and America, but developers from overseas in Asia and the Pacific were still making gowns. But this also meant buying locally would be hard. She and Soap were going to Glasgow next week to see his family and look at the church where they would have the ceremony, so maybe she would find a dress there. The most they had done so far was mail the invitations, get the flowers and advanced ordered the cake. Now it was the end of February, and time was going by fast. Melissa kept going on with her list of things they had to do in Scotland – meet the florist, meet the baker, meet the priest, go dress shopping with Irene MacTavish and Connie…so many things to do.

"You complain about getting age lines but you keep scowling." Melissa's head shot up and Soap was standing at the edge of the hallway with a large smile "That's just hypocritical."

"You're home!" she cried and immediately shot off the couch and into his arms. She smelt mud and sweat on him but that was the least of her worries "Thank god you're home." Soap laid his cheek on top of her head and closed his eyes. She was soft and warm, like always.

"Always good to be home." She moved her head to look up at him and he automatically leant down and kissed her firmly "You alright? After everything that's happened over the last few days, I was worried about you." he asked after they parted and Melissa pressed her lips together and nodded.

"I'll be fine. Mac's taking care of things so I can focus on other stuff for the wedding." Soap looked over at the pile of magazines and chuckled "How was Credenhill?"

"Shit, like usual. Nothing to do but train, do my review, think about you, train some more."

"And the…other stuff?" Soap knew she was talking about the moles at Camp Southern "You had a talk with them, didn't you?"

"They didn't give us anything new. The Ultranationalists need new ways to gather intel and your virus fit the bill."

"But what about -"

"Hey, look at me." He tilted her chin up with his fingers when he saw the stress on her face "You don't have to worry." He said firmly "You know it's not your fault." He brushed a thumb over her cheek and kissed the spot "Come on, let's go into town. I need a drink and you need to get out."

Later that night…

Soap was watching the game on the television with Melissa's feet in his lap as she sorted through the mail. They had a good time at the pub in Hereford town, with Melissa winning the round of darts started by Rook. He claimed that she was lucky because he was under the weather. It was good to see the worry ease off after a good time, and Soap was relieved. That meant less stress and more sleep for both of them.

"Oh my God." He heard his fiancée say and turned his head, only half-hearing her.

"What is it?"

"You know how I put Princess Sheera al-Banir on our guest list?"

"Yes, why? Don't tell me she accepted, I thought we were only doing it as a gag."

"You know we keep in touch after what happened last year." It was true. After rescuing the princess and her newborn son from Ursa's torture chamber, the two had sent messages to each other regularly, since they had bonded during their time at the palace. "She declined the invitation, but you should read this." Soap took the letter from Melissa's hands and looked it over.

_Dear Melissa,_

_It brings me great joy to hear that you and Major MacTavish are getting married. After all that has happened, any good news is great news._

_Thank you for your invitation, but I will not be able to attend because of other engagements. However, after speaking with my father, he and I wish to offer you both a gift. We have a villa on Abu Dhabi's Shalif Peninsular, and we want to extend it to you for your honeymoon, if you do not have any other plans. From there you have close access to much of the city, but it is also secluded enough to enjoy the privacy it affords. _

_Please write back to me as soon as you can. I wish to hear all the details of your wedding! May Allah bless your union._

_Sheera _

Soap read the letter once. Then again to make sure he wasn't losing his mind. Then a third time. He looked at Melissa, who had a big smile on her face, and he could feel his eyes stretching so wide he was sure the whites were showing.

"This is incredible." Was all he could say and Melissa nodded, getting up on her haunches and bouncing slightly on the cushions with excitement.

"Well?" she prompted and he snapped out of his stupor.

"Have we looked at honeymoon options yet?"

"No."

"Then I guess you should call her."

Melissa squealed happily and threw her arms around his neck.

Tuesday morning, Glasgow…

"Oh my…" Soap chuckled as his fiancée slowly turned while staring up at the ceiling of the church. They had arrived the day before with Price, Trish and Connie to make progress on the wedding "John, this is beautiful."

"Then it will look even more so on the day." Soap turned and smiled at the white haired priest wearing a plain jumper and trousers coming out of the rectory "John MacTavish, look at you. You're not the wee boy I baptised thirty-two years ago."

"No, Father, not anymore." Soap shook the old man's hand and Melissa joined his side "Mel, this is Father Lawrence McGovern. He's been the priest of this parish since before I was born."

"Nice to meet you Father." Melissa smiled and the priest returned it.

"The pleasure's mine. I understand you wish to be married here?" he asked and Soap nodded.

"In August, if we can." He stated and the old man nodded with a thoughtful look on his face.

"It only seems natural, John. You were baptised and received communion here. This is where your family worships, even today. But may I speak with you, in private?" Soap felt the confusion form in his mind and Melissa nudged his side.

"I'll leave you two to talk." She kissed his cheek and walked off before he could get a word in and watched as she walked back up the aisle to the rest of the party. She said a few words and Price looked at him, but Soap nodded his assurance and Price nodded back before shepherding everyone outside.

"When was the last time you went to confession, son?" Soap looked down at the old man, who had a concerned look on his face "You carry a great weight on your shoulders."

"I…not since last year, when we were visiting." Father McGovern made an "ah" noise and guided Soap to the box off to the side, where no noise would echo through the church. Five minutes later Soap found himself in the confessional, crossing himself. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

"Speak, and your soul shall be cleansed my son." Father McGovern said in the priest box.

"I've taken so many lives, and lost many of my men."

"Death is a part of life, as is war. You take life to protect it, and God understands this."

"But what if I can't be anything else?"

"Change is also a part of life. You wish to marry a woman who knows your burdens and wishes to relieve you of them."

"She knows death and destruction like I do." McGovern was silent "She was held hostage, tortured and taken away from me. But despite all this, I'm worried that I'll push her away if I can't turn the soldier inside me off. There's only so much she can bear."

"Melissa is a fine woman, and you love each other. She loves you despite your unease. She carries the same burden as you, with war and death. You can change, John. And she will be there. You already know this."

"I do. I just…I can't live without her. She makes me think of a life outside of the killing and the war."

"As I said, you take the life of the sinners to protect the innocent. Is there anything else that troubles you?"

"No, Father."

"Say three Our Fathers and one Hail Mary tonight. God forgives you and cleanses you of your sins."

Later that day…

"Confession? Is he serious?"

"John has a lot that weighs on his mind, Connie, leave him alone." Melissa shot her friend a warning glare "Besides, Father McGovern agreed to marry us, which is what we want."

"Okay then." Connie replied in an unconvinced tone. Melissa, Connie, Irene and Trish were currently in one of the bridal stores on Glasgow's main shopping avenue to find the perfect dress.

"Melissa, what about this one?" Irene called from the left and Melissa wrinkled her nose.

"I'm not a fan of mermaid, Irene."

"Okay, next one over then?"

"It'll look like I'm covered in bubbles! No puffy material!"

"Come on, let's go over to this rack." Connie took Melissa's elbow and guided her to the back of the room and started to sift through the dresses. Melissa downed the liquid encouragement in her champagne glass after the third rack and turning down the shop assistant's options.

"Connie?" Melissa whirled around. Her friend was nowhere to be seen, only rows of white and cream, beige and eggshell "Connie? Where are you?"

"Sorry." The other woman's head popped out between the skirts of two gowns on the left hand side "It's hard to hear through all the lace."

"One more rack each and then we're out of here. Irene and Trish aren't having much success either."

"But -" Melissa's glare stopped Connie's protest in its stride "Okay." She withdrew back into the layers and Melissa sighed, rubbing her temples. She stepped over to a shelf closest to the changing rooms and began to sift through the silks and chiffons. Too white, too princess, too puffy, too nineties – she stopped at the second last dress and stared.

"Mel, I'm done." She heard Connie call out behind her.

"Hey, come and see this one." She responded and heard footsteps quickly approaching her. They stopped a few meters away.

"Oh…you're definitely trying that one on."

Ten minutes later, Melissa was dressed down, zipped up and had a veil placed on her head. When she emerged from the dressing room with the attendant, there was a stunned silence. Connie was gawking. Trish was stunned. Tears were forming in Irene's eyes. Melissa quietly gasped at her reflection. The dress was off-white, which contrasted nicely against her tanned skin. It was a strapless piece; straight instead of heart shaped on top of the chest and had flower detail in golden wire and beads running down the corset. The skirt flared out at the waist under a light gold sash, but was not large and suited her frame to the tee.

"I think I found it."


	17. Chapter 17

Two months later…

"Nice shot." Price said as Soap looked up from the scope.

"Don't worry old man, I'm not about to let myself go."

"After one month and no missions I was expecting it. Don't you have a wedding to plan?" Soap pulled a face at that and Price chuckled "It's happened, hasn't it? Bridezilla has emerged?"

"Mel's trying really hard not to get stressed out, but with everything else it's getting to her." Soap explained "Last night Connie had her in tears."

"Oh, what was -"

"Over what colour to ice our cake." Price snorted and Soap rolled his eyes "Like Trish wasn't like that when she was planning your wedding."

"Oh no, she was, I just forgot how hysterical she became. She and her mother argued over everything, so be thankful you're missing out on that."

"Don't be so sure, she and my mother were getting into it over the wedding china."

"Do you get any say in the proceedings? Or is she freezing you out?" Soap loaded a new magazine into the rifle and shook his head.

"No, not entirely. My condition was that we get married at the church back home. Everything else is hers, and I try to stay out of their way."

"Very wise." Price nodded. Soap was lining up the shot when the radio they were carrying screeched to life.

"Sorry to disturb you boys." It was the range chief "But Commander MacMillan wants you in the war room back on base. He says it's urgent."

Thirty minutes later…

"One of our contacts has spied Yelchin Urolov in Thailand three hours ago. Chatter rumours that he's meeting Ursa there in forty-eight hours." Mac said as photos of Urolov flipped over the screen. He was wearing dark glasses and had grown a beard but the scar on his cheek was recognisable "He's been placed in the Orchid Sky Hotel in the heart of Bangkok, where he has a few guards protecting him on the penthouse floor." a hologram of a tall skyscraper appeared, indicating in red the penthouse level.

"The quickest way in would be from above." Soap noted "We won't be able to go up through the hotel without casualties."

"Agreed." Mac nodded "But we have to make the timing close. You all leave tomorrow morning and should hit the hotel tomorrow night. With any luck we may be able to catch the two together."

"Whoa, hold on, wait a minute." Melissa waved her hand "You said "from above", right? So does that mean, you know…" she whistled and moved her hands in a downward motion and the others chuckled.

The next evening, Bangkok airspace, close to the drop site…

"Remind me to strike Mac from the guest list when we get home." Melissa said as Soap tightened the straps of her parachute. To avoid being spotted, the parachutes and suits were black camouflage, making them blend in with the night sky.

"It's not that bad. You loved the jump every time we've done one." He pointed out and she scowled slightly.

"Yes, but before that there was fear, terror and all around scaredy-catness. And if you remember correctly, last time we were doing it for practice!"

"And you did fine, after you finished screaming." Price said and Melissa rolled her eyes.

"Drop in one minute." The pilot's voice said over the PA and everyone put on their helmets and checked their compasses. The ramp started to lower and Price started the line, with Melissa, Soap and Rook following. The airman at the ramp held up one hand and waited before pointing out. Price leapt out, followed by the others in five second intervals. Melissa tried to concentrate but seeing Bangkok from above was fascinating. The Orchid Sky Hotel was getting closer, and was easily spotted thanks to its 116 storey height and red and purple lights. They pulled their chutes and glided to the helipad, which was thankfully empty. They quickly stripped off the chutes, just as three guards were coming through the access door. Rook took care of them with his silenced rifle before they moved with Price snatching one of the guard's radios. They descended down the stairs, opened the door to the penthouse level…and all hell broke loose. There were at least a dozen guards on the penthouse floor alone, and Urolov had tried to make a break for the door they came in through once they were in the lounge room – until Melissa shot him in the leg. She dragged him into the dining room and the men finished the rest of the guards off.

"Well well well, look at this." Price said with a rough smile as Melissa tied a tourniquet around Urolov's leg. The man in question was groaning in agony and kept trying to grab the wounded area but Melissa kept smacking his hand away. "The Butcher of Belgrade reduced to a cry baby after a bullet in the leg."

"Price, there are more coming." Rook said with his ear to the radio "They're asking for a check in." Price grabbed the radio and held it in front of Urolov's face, with his gun aimed at his head in his other hand.

"Tell them to back off." Urolov glared at him and Price moved his gun from his head to his crotch "Now." there was a glare-off for a second and Urolov finally opened his mouth.

"Team one check in – everything is clear."

"Captain!" the man on the other end sounded flustered. He clearly hadn't expected Urolov's voice "Are you sure?" Price pulled back the hammer.

"Yes you ignorant fool!" Urolov scolded into the radio "Keep doing the rounds but do not come up here. I do not wish to be disturbed until tomorrow."

"Y-yes captain." Price moved the radio away and nodded to Soap and Rook.

"Melissa, why don't you check out the rest of the place? This talk we're about to have shouldn't be done in front of a lady." Price said, but Melissa knew it was an order. Urolov was pulled off the floor and into a chair, but his glare never left her face. It was cold, but full of rage and hatred at the same time. Melissa nodded and walked out of the room, closing the wooden privacy door behind her.

One hour later…

Melissa had tried to glean any information of Urolov's computers but there was little information on the ones around the suite. The most she could tell was that these laptops belonged to the guards and that Urolov had his stashed somewhere.

"Well," she said to herself "only one way to find out." She walked back to the dining room and opened the doors. She let out a gasp of horror. Urolov's lip was split, his eye was bloody and there was a head wound dripping blood down the left side. His nose was dripping blood and mucus and was probably broken. He deserved much worse, but Melissa never got used to seeing sights like these "What the hell?"

"Is there something wrong?" Price asked. He was standing back while Soap was on Urolov's side. Rook was near another door, watching. They didn't bat an eye and Melissa straightened her back bone.

"The laptops in this place belong to the guards, I need his." Melissa pointed to the captive in the chair "I'm guessing he's put it in one of the safes in this penthouse, but I'll need the combination."

"Never, you weak little bitch!" Urolov yelled defiantly from the chair and Soap punched him across the face. Melissa was pretty sure she heard a tooth hit the ground.

"Talk to her again, mate, and you'll forget your name with the next one." Soap said in a menacing voice which made Melissa shiver, and not in a good way. But the comment from Urolov fired something in her belly and she stormed forward, grabbing his face, causing him to groan when she squeezed the sore areas.

"Now you listen to me, you weak little bitch." She said in Russian in a dark whisper and the older man's gaze focused on her, razor sharp "Ursa has made my life hell. People like you, have made my life hell. And I will make your life hell, if you don't give me what I want."

"You've got nothing to use – AHHHH!" Melissa had grabbed his leg wound and squeezed.

"They call you the Butcher of Belgrade but all I see is a bloody, beaten man fighting for a worthless cause." Melissa yelled over his screams. In the corner of her eyes she saw Rook, and his eyes were about to fall out of his head. Melissa grabbed her gun from her thigh holster and before anyone could stop her, she shot it at the ground, making Urolov jump in his chair despite being bound "The next one goes into your other leg. Forget your laptop, tell us where Ursa is right now!" there was a tick's silence before Urolov chuckled. His chuckling then became a full grown laugh which immediately ceased when Melissa followed Price's example and aimed it at his family jewels. He let out one more guffaw before he started speaking again.

"You have grown a spine after all, little brat." He replied in Russian, cocking his head to the side and analysing her with a sadistic grin. Melissa held up her hand to stop Soap from making a move behind her "Not at all what I expected. Ursa made you out to be a weakling."

"She was right, but things have changed." Melissa replied, holstering her gun "Where is she?"

"Not here. After I suspected I had been followed, I told her not to come." Urolov shifted to a more upright position in his chair "You will not find her."

"You know what follows this." Melissa stated "You go to trial in Moscow and probably get sentenced to death for your crimes. But Ursa is just as complicit as you, if not more. Why should you die and she walks free?" Urolov chuckled again.

"You are a manipulative one."

"And you are a scumbag who deserves to die."

"True, but not today. Why should I tell you where she is?"

"Maybe I should let these guys get back to business." She gestured to Soap, Price and Rook "Maybe a beating will get more sense out of you."

"Ha ha ha ha! I did not think that was your ideal way of doing things."

"It's not, but you're being unco-operative and I'm tired."

"You really are a Makarov." Soap saw that hit a nerve and Melissa walked close and grabbed Urolov's face again, the anger evident by the twist in her expression.

"My brother sullied my family name by what he did. I wanted to use my real last name when I was a teenager but I couldn't because my father wouldn't let me. He said that because of Vladimir, they'll hang Makarov's in the street. The world knows that my father and I are victims, but that still doesn't change the notoriety. I am a Makarov, but I'm nothing like him." Urolov stared her down but Melissa did the same, not fliching. It felt like a lifetime, but Urolov finally sighed –

"No, you are not." Melissa let go of his face and he continued "When I saw you and your father in your cells I saw what opposites you both were to Vladimir." He looked her in the face "You have stared me down, shot me, and made me bleed. You have earned this information."

"Where is she?" Melissa demanded.

Hereford, war room, the next day, 1200 hours…

"As soon as Urolov told you Ursa's supposed location, I tasked Miss O'Toole with digging up intel." Mac said and the world map zoomed in on a particular location "We ran her face through recognition software – ATMs, security cameras, smartphones, anything, and we had a few hits."

"So she is in Tunisia?" Melissa asked and Soap noticed the excitement in her voice.

"She was, up until an hour ago. The software tracked her to a private airstrip, getting onto a private plane."

"Word of Urolov's capture must've reached her and she ran." Price stated and Soap noticed Melissa stiffen at Urolov's name "Was there a flight plan filed?"

"No." Mac sighed "So she's in the wind. We've notified our spies and they have their ears to the ground, but we could be waiting for a while. Dismissed." Soap felt a breeze at his side and looked down to see empty space where his fiancée used to be. He turned in time to see her walking out the door and quickly followed.

"Mel, wait." He jogged up to her and reached for her arm. There was no-one in the hallway, leaving them room to talk. Soap was about to open his mouth when he noticed how pale Melissa was. She was as white as a sheet and her top lip was trembling slightly, and her eyes were wide and panicked. Soap felt the anxiety twist in his gut and immediately pulled her into his side before striding down the corridor.

"Soap, do you -"

"Not now Price, sorry!" Soap yelled and picked up the pace. They were out of the building within a minute and into their jeep parked out the front. Soap sped to their house, trying to keep his eyes on Melissa and on the road at the same time. She was leaning over so far her head was practically between her knees with her hands clamped on the sides of her head "Melissa! Come on, stay with me, we're almost home!" Melissa shook her head and Soap pressed the gas pedal down further.

They arrived at their house five minutes later and Melissa practically jumped out of the car before barrelling down the pathway and through the door. Soap put the jeep in park before getting out and running into the house. Melissa's boots were in the hallway, one after the other, followed by her jacket and jumper in the living room. A glass vase that usually sat on the servery was shattered on the ground and Soap felt the anxiety hit again. But his ears pricked when he noticed noise. Running water, to be exact. And loud sobs. Soap strode to the master bathroom and noticed the door was half-open. He slowly pushed it open and his heart broke at the sight laid before him. Melissa was in the shower, sitting on the floor hugging her knees to her chest and crying. The water from the shower head was pelting her full force, leaving her soaked to the bone. "Oh God, Mel." He sighed and opened the shower door. The water was freezing, and he quickly turned the hot water tap on before sinking down beside her and pulling her into an embrace. Melissa fell into his chest and pressed her face into his skin before starting another round of sobs. Soap didn't know what to say and rubbed one of his hands slowly up and down her back while holding her steady with the other. She hadn't had a panic attack this bad since she returned home from Ursa's clutches, except...Soap thought back to Urolov's interrogation. After he disclosed Ursa's location, Melissa had ran out of the room with her hand over her mouth, like she was about to be sick. Soap followed her and found her on her knees in the bedroom furthest from the dining room, mumbling to herself –

"_I'm not like him. I'm not like him."_

Those were the same words she was whispering against his neck. Soap pressed his lips to her forehead and whispered back –

"You're nothing like him."

"But what Urolov said -"

"Is irrelevant." Soap cut her thoughts off "His opinion means nothing, he was trying to rile you up."

"John, be honest with me." Soap still couldn't see Melissa's face because her head was down, but he felt her mouth turn down even further into a frown "How could you marry me? My brother was a mass murderer! A sociopath! He tried to kill you! How could you marry me?!" Soap placed his hands on the sides of Melissa's face and forced her to look up at him. Her face was red and blotchy from tears, her eyes were bloodshot and her hair was a wet, unruly mess.

"Because your brother did the same things to you, Mel. You're more of a victim than me. I didn't see Vladimir Makarov's half-sister when I first laid eyes on you."

"Then what did you see?"

"A woman who I would save. No matter what the cost." That started a new round of tears and Melissa dove back into Soap's chest, her fingers grasping his water-logged shirt in an effort to secure herself against him. Soap folded his large arms around her small frame and pressed his cheek to the top of her head.


	18. Chapter 18

Later that night…

"How is she doing?"

"Better that before. I've got her laid up in bed right now, the panic attack took a lot out of her." Soap turned in the direction of the master bedroom. Everything was quiet.

"We can't let her go after Ursa in this condition."

"Mel will be okay Price." Soap insisted "I've made her book in to see Dr Phillips tomorrow."

"Are you going with her?"

"No. As much as I want to, this is something she needs to get off her chest without worrying about me."

"Alright, I suppose there's not much we can do until then. Meet on the range, usual time. We still have that trip to the grounds tomorrow."

"Roger that. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Soap sighed after he hung up the phone. No doubt Mac would hear of this incident and Melissa's abilities would be questioned. But if she wouldn't be allowed to go after Ursa, it would do her more damage that what had transpired that day.

Melissa hid her face behind her hair as she left the psychiatrists' office the next day. Usually Dr Phillips was really good, but Melissa felt disconnected and left feeling even worse that when she arrived. All she seemed to hear was – _you're not like your brother, you're not like him_ – without any meaning reaching her. The only words that worked were her fiancé's, but he was with Price at the training range off base. Melissa shook her head to stop the tears.

"Hey, Mel!" she whirled around to see Rook jogging over towards her, breaking off from a small group of soldiers.

"Oh, hey Rook." She tried to smile but his frown told her he could see through it "Don't let the others catch you slacking off."

"Eh, who cares what they think." He shrugged "You going to your office?" she nodded "Come on, I'll walk you there." Melissa was about to open her mouth to refuse him, but the sincerity in his eyes stopped her. She smiled a little and nodded instead. It was only a five minute walk to the building where her office was located, and Rook mostly stayed silent, which she appreciated. When the block was in sight, he gently took her elbow. "You know, when I found out who you were, I mean really, I was shocked." Melissa raised her eyebrows and searched his face, but there was no hostility there "But before that, I got to know you, the real you."

"And? What do you think of the real me?" she questioned.

"Well, you're the only chick who can come close to beating me at any game in the pub, everything that comes out of your kitchen tastes like heaven, and you've never failed to watch my back." Melissa was quiet, not knowing how to respond "Sure, you have a black sheep in your family. My brother's serving time, you know."

"What? What for?"

"Double homicide." Melissa felt her jaw drop "Don got into a drunken brawl and shot two people and got twenty-five to life. I write, visit occasionally, but I see the looks on the faces of the people we know, comparing me to him."

"How do you live with it?" Rook shrugged his shoulders.

"By knowing that I'm doing the best I can, doing good deeds. I prove that we're not alike." His brown eyes locked onto her hazel ones "You do that every day, Melissa. You just don't realise it." Melissa let out a short laugh and pressed her fingers into her eyes to stop the tears, but the weight she had felt when she left the psychiatrists' office was lessening. She shook her head and looked up at him.

"Thanks, Lewis." Rook gave her a crooked grin and she kissed his cheek before walking away.

1900 hours, Soap and Melissa's house…

Melissa sighed as she sank back into the warm, lavender scented water, feeling the bubbles popping under her fingers. She had clocked off at five and got home just as the phone rang. It was her fiancé, apologising because he and Price were running late on the training course and to start dinner without him. He asked her how her day went, but she said it could wait until he got home. She could tell that made him apprehensive and that he most likely started bugging Price to leave the course the moment he got off the phone. Melissa's ears pricked when she heard the door to the garage close. Speak of the devil.

"Mel?" she heard him call and she smiled. His accent was too adorable sometimes.

"Bathroom." She called back and arranged the bubbles to make sure everything was covered. She heard trepid footsteps coming down the hall. Soap was probably expecting to find her catatonic in the shower again, judging by the guarded look he was wearing when he peered around the door. This immediately turned into a smile at the sight of her happy face. Melissa held out her hand and he entered, taking it in his own and sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Melissa craned her neck and Soap bent down for a kiss. She noted the dirt and mud on his skin and pants, and that he smelt like he had been crawling in it. "Did you play nicely?" she asked and he pulled a face.

"Price started it." he muttered and she chuckled "He did! Putting a fake IED in a bog, of all places!"

"Eww." Melissa crinkled her nose "You're having a shower before you're getting into bed."

"Oh no, don't try to divert attention." He said and she immediately knew what he was talking about. Soap re-arranged the grip on her hand, threading their fingers together and placing his free hand on the back of her neck "How did it go, today?"

"The doctor was a waste of time. She didn't do anything for me." She could practically hear his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline "It was all so repetitive. Usually Dr Phillips is really good; she helped me with my PTSD but this was different. I needed to hear you say the things she was telling me. I don't know why, I just did." She felt his grip tighten and knew that he was blaming himself for leaving her "But, things did get a little better. I left, feeling like shit and I ran into Rook. He walked me to work and told me what I needed to really hear."

"Wait – Rook? Lewis Creed? Giving you emotional support when he has the emotional support capacity of a peanut?"

"It turns out he can be deep." She said defensively and looked up at him "Rook really helped me. He achieved in five minutes what Dr Phillips couldn't do in an hour."

"Wow." He looked down at her "So he can do things other than shoot straight and down four beers in rapid succession." Melissa slapped his side and he chuckled "I'm sorry I left you today. I should have told Price to go without me."

"No, you would have been ordered to go if you didn't. Now you can make it up by giving me a neck rub." Soap guffawed.

"Yes ma'am."

Hereford, the next day, 0910 hours…

"Captain, or should I say, Major Price. Congratulations on the promotion." An American voice surged through the com-line.

"Stop it; you'll make my head swell. What's the matter, Gibson? You rarely call for a social chat." Price quipped which elicited a snort from the other end.

"You know me so well. Uncle Sam sent us to apprehend Bronislav Rusakov last night."

"The black market weapons dealer, yeah, I know him. Where was he hiding?"

"El Salvador, in the slums, still lining Ultranationalist pockets."

"Did he sing?"

"Like a bird; he gave us some valuable intel. The Ultranationalist prison warden, Leonid Pogodin, is in Egypt, but we can't get to him before he runs. You're one of the few people I know who can catch up to him."

"Roger that. I'll contact you when we have him."

"Leonid Pogodin is number three on the list from Interpol." Soap said later in the war room "He's a nasty piece of work."

"He used to be a captain in the Spetsnaz, but was discharged after the PTSD became too much." Mac said as Pogodin's stats were displayed on the holographic table. He was a bitter-looking man in his sixties with grey hair and age lines, with his mouth in a perpetual frown "He found work managing the Ultranationalists' prisons, including the ones you and your father were kept in, Melissa."

"I never met him." She replied "But I did hear of him from time to time."

"He rarely interacted with prisoners, but when he did they often left their cells in a body bag. His training made him proficient at extracting information." Price continued. A few photos came up of Pogodin with Ursa, with her smiling at him openly "They look rather chummy."

"Word around the grapevine during the war was that Ursa and Leonid were close, and that Makarov introduced them."

"So they're together?" Melissa pulled a face "Ugh."

"If they still are, he could have information of her whereabouts. Melissa," Mac looked her in the eye "I have half a mind to keep you here since you've been struggling, but Dr Phillips says you're still fit for duty. However, this man was responsible for you and your father's misery."

"No, Mac, my brother and Ursa are responsible for that." Melissa said in a firm voice "I can go." Mac eyed her wearily for a moment before nodding his head.

"I'll trust you on that." He cast his eyes over Price, Soap and Rook "The Americans say that he moves in 36 hours, so the clock is ticking. Get geared up, you take off in an hour."

Outskirts of Cairo, seven hours later…

"Here, keep up your blood sugar." Soap absentmindedly took a handful of jellybeans from the bag his fiancée was presenting to him and threw them in his mouth. Pogodin had been placed in a small house in a shanty town five kilometres outside of Cairo. The five of them, plus two soldiers from the base called Brook and Phelps, had driven into town in two old trucks to avoid attracting attention and were now in the house across the street waiting to pounce. Soap looked through the binoculars again. His heart pumped loudly in his ears when he saw a figure through the window for the first time since their arrival.

"Price, we have movement." He passed over the binoculars to the older man.

"What? He wasn't in the house a minute ago!" Price hissed.

"There must be a back entrance."

"Let's grab him while he's unawares. Melissa, Phelps, go around the back in case he tries to scurry away. Move!" they quickly and quietly moved off, two around the back and three to the front. Price and Brook took one side, Soap and Rook on the other. Price signalled a breach and grenade throw on the count of three, and Soap nodded in affirmation. One…two…three! Price kicked down the door and Soap threw in a flash bomb. But just as he released it, the world seemed to move in slow motion as a gunshot erupted from inside the house, and a scream from Price as he fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder. Soap reacted quickly, moving into the house where he could see Pogodin's back as he tried to get away, only to get smacked in the face by the wooden rear door. He fell to the ground, stunned, while Melissa and Phelps moved in. He heard Brook shout "clear!" and heard Rook dragging Price into the house. Soap knelt by the older man's side and inspected the wound. He was bleeding, but not heavily enough that suggested the bullet had hit an artery.

"Too slow, old man." Soap ribbed as he reached for his field medical kit and Price huffed.

"You're one to talk." Was the somewhat slurred reply and Soap chuckled, shaking his head. He grabbed the gauze and moved to patch the wound when he heard a creaking noise. He looked up to see his fiancée pausing mid-stride in the middle of the kitchen.

"Do that again." Soap said and Melissa rocked back and forth, eliciting noise from the floor.

"This wood floor is supposed to be over concrete, it shouldn't be squeaking." Rook quipped and Phelps knelt down to pull the worn out Persian rug away, revealing a trap door in the middle of the floor. Melissa stood ready, aiming her rifle at the door, Brook behind her. Phelps threw open the door but nothing emerged other than some dust. Melissa nodded in their direction and slowly descended the stairs. After a few seconds, her voice echoed out.

"Oh my God."

"Mel, what is it?" Soap called, feeling the anxiety replace the adrenaline.

"John, you need to see this!" Soap didn't think twice, descending himself with the lamp of his rifle on. A quick scan of the room made his jaw go slack. Priceless jewels, art and other artefacts lined the shelves, glittering under the lamp when he shined it in any direction.

"What the hell..?" was all he could say.

"This must be some of the things the Ultranationalists looted during the earlier days of the war." Melissa said from a corner of the room, holding what looked like a diamond tiara "Faberge eggs, imperial treasures, you name it. I'm pretty sure there's an authentic Van Gogh in that corner."

"Soap, Mel, what did you find?" Price called out. He sounded annoyed and crabby. Soap came back up and told the others what they had stumbled on and Price nodded. "Pogodin must have come here to grab some things to sell." He looked at the older Russian lying unconscious in the corner "That stuff is worth a fortune."

"It means they're either broke or desperate." Rook quipped while Soap examined Price's shoulder.

"Brook, Phelps, call the base, tell them what happened and stay here to guard the loot until back up arrives to collect it. Price needs better medical care, so we'll head back and take Pogodin with us." Soap ordered while draping Price's good arm over his shoulders. Rook was already dragging Pogodin out by the feet.

"Yes sir."


	19. Chapter 19

Cairo, the next morning, 1030 hours local time…

Melissa breathed in the scents of the souk. She could smell various spices, perfumes and foodstuffs and wondered how much had changed in the thousands of years the markets had been operating. Herself, Price, Soap and Rook had made it back to base with no troubles. Pogodin had stayed unconscious throughout the ride, and he would be processed at the base before being shipped off to Moscow for trial. The treasures on the shanty house were being seized and catalogued, and rumour had it that the worth of the small collection was in the billions. Price's condition was fine, but he had lost enough blood that demanded overnight observation. The foursome would be on a plane back to Hereford that night. Since they had the day, Melissa wanted to check out the city, and was granted a day pass as well as a sidearm for protection. She was dressed in civilian clothes that were up to Muslim customs – jeans, boots and a t-shirt that had sleeves to the elbows, as well as a scarf that covered her hair loosely.

"Step away from the gold."

"But it's so pretty!"

"You've got enough already!"

"You should know by now that when it comes to women and pretty things that there's no such thing as enough." Soap sighed as he took his fiancée's hand and pulled her along.

"Come on you. I want to try this dumpling place."

"Yes dear." Melissa mocked and Soap chuckled. As soon as Melissa told him she wanted to visit the city, he immediately asked for a day pass as well. There was no way he was letting her go by herself. Rook had gone, too, and the two of them were given civilian clothes to wear. Price was not allowed to leave the base because of his condition. Speaking of Rook, he was at the dumpling hut, stuffing his face with one of the delicacies. "Good?" she questioned and the younger man tried to smile through his dumpling, his full mouth saying something along the lines of "delicious". As Soap was ordering a plate of lamb dumplings, Melissa's eyes roamed the market. Hawkers were yelling out what they were selling and animals were bleating and squawking in their pens. Vendors were selling things from ancient trinkets from the Valley of the Kings to vegetables.

Melissa was wondering what stall to visit next when her gaze saw someone that made her heart stop in her chest. It took a few more seconds to properly recognise her, but when Ursa saw Melissa, her eyes widened in shock, which was mirrored back to her. That was quickly smoothed over and Ursa quickly produced a handgun, firing three shots in the air. That caused chaos, with many people screaming and ducking, and Melissa felt Soap's hand grabbing her arm to pull her down to the ground, but she wrenched it out of his grip before bolting after Ursa, who was now trying to disappear into the maze of the souk. Melissa heard her name being called out but she ignored it, jumping over people and pushing them out of her way, making sure to keep Ursa in her sights. She felt the wind in her ears and the scarf flying off her head, but Melissa blocked everything out. Ursa was slowing, rounding a corner. Melissa saw her just in time to see her ducking into one of the old houses.

"Shit." She swore. She felt her phone buzz but ignored it as she ran past the shocked inhabitants to the roof, where she saw Ursa trying to escape. Melissa didn't miss a beat and quickly followed suit, grabbing her sidearm. She jumped over the crates and other objects Ursa had toppled to block her path, silently thanking Soap and her trainer for making her do the obstacle courses. In the background and out of the corner of her eye, Melissa saw a helicopter. Ursa wasn't signalling it, so it must have belonged to either the SAS or the Egyptian armed forces. No doubt Soap or Rook had contacted base after the shots and her not answering her phone.

It must have been another five or so minutes of running through the rooftops, but Melissa felt like it had taken years when she slowed and took aim. She wasn't going to catch Ursa when she was so far ahead. She lined up her shot and fired. She felt a stab of anxiety when the older woman went down, but immediately started running again. She couldn't risk the chance of another getaway. Melissa jumped over three more roofs when she reached Ursa, who was face down on the ground. Melissa cautiously approached, keeping her gun aimed at Ursa's head at all times. When she was about a foot away and about to kick the older woman's side, Ursa suddenly lashed out, a blade in hand, and Melissa felt it slice her skin. But her adrenaline levels were too high to register any pain. She jumped back a little but managed to kick Ursa down when she tried to scurry away and stand. That was followed by a punch, a kick and another punch, with all but the last successfully dodged. Ursa was down low but managed to grab Melissa's hands, pulling them up. Melissa resisted, feeling her fingers squeeze the trigger, letting off a few shots before she kneed Ursa in the stomach. She dropped the gun and grabbed the older woman's shoulder before punching her across the face, sending her to the ground and kicking her in the stomach. She saw Ursa reach for a wooden plank but stepped on her hand, hard, causing a screech that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Melissa grabbed her gun and pointed it at Ursa, who rolled around on her back. There was blood coming from her nose and mouth and her right eye was red. She spat on the ground and glared at Melissa, baring her bloody gums.

"Go on!" she yelled in Russian "Do it!" Melissa stepped closer so that there was no chance of her missing. "Do it! You know you want to!" Hazel eyes met blue, with glares clashing and anger radiating off both in waves. Melissa felt her face contort into a sneer and relished the fear in Ursa's eyes when she smacked the butt of her pistol across Ursa's temple, sending her to the ground. Melissa stared at her prone body, the adrenaline that had been once pumping through her blood now fading, and she could feel her hands start to shake. She didn't know how long it took, minutes, years, but she felt a hand on her shoulder and she lashed out with a scream, her fist going for the face of the person near her but it was easily caught and she was pulled against a large, hard chest while the gun was snatched out of her grip. Smelling Soap's sandalwood scent through the haze, Melissa immediately broke into hysterical tears and felt her legs give out beneath her, no longer having the energy to stand. She felt Soap go down with her so that she wouldn't land hard on her rear and pressed her forehead against the skin of his neck, crying all the while. It was over.


	20. Chapter 20

News of Ursa's capture had quickly spread around the world within hours. People were out celebrating in the streets before their leaders had even officially announced it. They were making toasts to peace, to the end of the Ultranationalist hardliners and the like, but were quick to call out for her head. The ICC sent Ursa to Moscow on a secure charter to make sure she wasn't assassinated before her trial. Melissa had been congratulated on catching her in Cairo, but she had confined herself to the house on her return to Hereford to escape the attention. Soap had found her on the bathroom floor when he returned from another debriefing, sobbing but laughing in between, saying "thank you" over and over again to nobody in particular.

"What do I do now?" was her question later that night when they had gone to bed. The reason she had joined the SAS in the first place was to bring Ursa to justice, and now that was over.

"Stay here, with me." Was his simple reply and she never asked again, rather moulding her body against his so that there were no gaps between them. He had wrapped his large arms around her and kissed her head before drifting off. She had called her grandfather to tell him the news after touching down on home soil, as well as her father, who broke down in tears. She had learned a few days later that her testimony was not needed, much to her relief. The evidence against Ursa was plentiful. Her sentence would most likely be death, though the trial was a few months away.

Under questioning, Ursa had revealed that she was meeting Leonid Pogodin in Cairo with the items he had planned to smuggle out of the shanty house. They were going to sell them on the black market to create more funds for the Ultranationalists. Melissa's bullet had only grazed her shoulder.

"I want to see her." Melissa said five days after Ursa's capture. Mac blinked, lost for words, and was opening his mouth to answer when she cut him off "I need to ask her something."

One week later, state prison, outskirts of Moscow, 0830 hours local time…

Melissa felt like the grey walls were staring at her while she was being escorted down the hallway. After cutting through a lot of red tape and Mac's personal call to the Russian President, Melissa was permitted to see Ursa, and had arrived early that morning. She had been scanned, frisked and x-rayed before being taken into the main complex. Since the prison was now home to many Ultranationalists, the government had to bolster security not only to prevent against opportunities of escape, but assassination. As an even further measure, an entire section of the prison was vacated for them, moving over 300 prisoners to make way for only 40 or so.

Soap, Price, and Rook had accompanied her as far as the ward gate, where they were made to wait outside in the armoured SUVs. As soon as President Vorshevsky had received the details of Ursa's capture, he requested that they all come as a unit to meet him at the presidential palace after the visit to the prison. Mac didn't reveal many details, other than the President wanted to thank them for their service in person.

Melissa noticed that the procession had stopped before she bumped into the prison warden.

"We're here." Was all he said, glancing at her over his shoulder before nodding up to the camera above the door. A second later a buzz sounded and the heavy metal door retracted. The warden stepped through and to the side, revealing Ursa sitting at a lone table in the middle of the room and making Melissa's stomach drop. Ursa looked like she had aged ten years – her face was withdrawn, her skin pale and her hair stringy. Her fingernails were dirty and her bruises were visible, including the black eye that Melissa gave her in Egypt.

"Miss Morton." Melissa saw a guard gesture to the opposite seat and Melissa straightened her spine, walking steadily towards the table under Ursa's harsh glare. She sat down and clasped her hands together before her, and she noticed Ursa's glance to where her engagement ring sat proudly. All of a sudden, Melissa felt a sense of what she could vaguely call smugness – and relief. It was Ursa in chains now, in prison, in a hole. All the past times it had been the other way around.

"So you're getting married." Ursa said, snapping her out of her thoughts. The older woman's blue eyes bore right through her. "Congratulations."

"He proposed on Christmas Day. One of the best days of my life so far." Melissa replied shortly and Ursa smirked.

"And you didn't tell me when we were together last? How hurtful." Melissa didn't experience fear at that expression, much to her surprise. Her posture remained straight and she narrowed her eyes. She knew why she suddenly felt so confident. Seeing her enemy in chains was vilifying.

"Not as hurtful as what you're going to get in a few months." She threw back sharply and Ursa's lip curled into a sneer.

"Seeing me beaten is making you cocky."

"Yes, and I'm rather enjoying it."

"Why are you here? I thought you would never want to see me again, the least willingly."

"I wanted to look the devil in the eyes one last time. Seeing you like this…" Melissa roamed her eyes over Ursa's pitiful figure "I'm not so scared anymore." Ursa didn't say anything "I wanted to ask you a question, again. You didn't answer it last time." Ursa smiled at the memory and sat back "My mother. I found the locket in Argentina. She wore it all the time, Dad said so. She wasn't wearing it when she died and he didn't find it in the wreckage after the fire. He thought he saw you in the crowd afterwards. Why did you kill her?" Ursa chuckled lowly and shook her head, but never took her eyes off Melissa.

"It wasn't obvious?"

"Enlighten me."

"Your mother shouldn't have played with my toys." At the end she let out another laugh and Melissa felt her blood boil. The laughing became unbearable, the cruelty and malice behind it was too much. Melissa lashed out across the table in the blink of an eye, reaching for Ursa's throat but only managing to get the collar of her prison jumpsuit. This only seemed to make Ursa laugh harder and the guards prised Melissa away, ordering her to stop over her screams of "I'll kill you! You evil bitch!".

"Miss Morton! Please!" the warden demanded loudly. Melissa stopped trying to escape their grip. Her hair had come loose and through the strands falling over her face she could see Ursa still laughing, though it was quickly turning into an awful, throat grinding cough. The guards had pulled her at least two metres away and weren't letting her go until they knew she was calm. She took a deep breath and pushed a shoulder, and they slowly released her. There was a tense pause as Melissa waited for Ursa to stop coughing. Her gaze was hard and she felt her facial muscles getting sore from the angry expression on her face.

"Now, Melissa, I have a question." Ursa said, her voice now throaty and raw. The evil in her eyes was obvious. "Why didn't you shoot me on that roof? You would have gotten justice for yourself. For Aleksey. Your mother." She spat out the last word like it was a disease. Melissa huffed a harsh breath.

"Don't make any mistake, Ursa. I wanted to. I would have. But death is too easy a way out for people like you. Why would I kill you, when I could watch you be humiliated in front of the whole world? Killing you myself wouldn't be the right kind of justice."

"How noble." She muttered darkly.

"Everyone you've ever brought pain to will get justice during your trial. You'll feel the pain and humiliation you made me feel. And then you'll burn in hell, with Vladimir."

"Your brother had a vision -"

"And we were all dead in it!" Melissa roared and that made Ursa silent. She took another breath and lowered voice "My vision for the future is getting married to the man I love. Having a family of my own to raise in a world with no war, no death and no Ultranationalists."

"You are a Makarov." Ursa hissed.

"But not like him. I'm my father's daughter. Vladimir was his mother's son. You turned him into what he was. I am a Makarov, but the kind that was everything Vladimir wasn't. " Melissa then turned to look at the warden "I want to go." The man nodded and signalled to the camera in the corner of the room. A loud beep echoed in the cavernous room and the door began to retract. Melissa looked at Ursa again. If anything, she looked more haggard and defeated since she first walked in. "I'm the one walking out of the cell now. How does it feel?" she didn't give Ursa time to respond before she turned a heel and walked away, not once looking back.

"Soap, looking at your watch won't make the time go faster." Price chastised and Soap scowled. Melissa had been in the prison for an hour and a quarter. They had been made to wait in the government car provided. Himself, Price and Rook were dressed in their formal uniforms, berets and all, prepped for their meeting with the President after the visit to the prison. He ran his hand over his freshly shaved head, feeling odd without the mowhawk under his palm. He had shaved it off the previous night so that he could have a proper haircut in time for the wedding, which was a mere three months away.

"Look, there she is." Rook pointed out and Soap's head snapped up. Melissa was flanked by the warden and another guard. She looked upset, making Soap's stomach drop. When they were only a few feet away, she quickly strode ahead of them and into his arms, not caring who was looking. Soap held onto her tightly, one arm around her shoulders and the other around her back and pressed his lips to the top of her head. He saw Price nod at the warden and go to open the car door. Soap guided Melissa into the SUV, followed by the others. She immediately took hold of his hand and squeezed it, linking their fingers together.

"Did you get everything you needed?" he asked quietly and she took a breath.

"Yes."

Presidential Palace, President Vorshevsky's private meeting room…

Melissa stared blankly at a still life portrait hanging on one of the walls, not really looking at it as Ursa's words rattled through her head. Her mother was dead because she loved her father. When she said that in the car on the way to the presidential palace, the men were silent, at first unsure what to say, until Soap spoke –

"I'm sorry." Those words nearly tore her apart, but she had to keep it together. Another tear meant Ursa had control over her, but at times she felt it was almost impossible. Now she had to put on a happy face, a mask which she knew everyone else would be able to see through. She was never all that good at poker faces. She heard a door open and turned to see President Vorshevsky walking through the door, closely followed by two security guards in black suits and she walked to the others so they were all standing in line. The President himself was well dressed in a navy suit with a red tie and seemed jovial.

"Major Price, Major MacTavish! A pleasure to see you both again!" he greeted boisterously and shook their hands.

"Pleasure's ours, sir." Price replied and Vorshevsky's eyes fell to Rook.

"I do not believe we have met."

"No, Mr President. Lieutenant Lewis Creed." Rook went to salute but couldn't hide his surprise when the President took his hand and shook it vigorously with a grin.

"A pleasure, Lieutenant." He laughed and soon set eyes on Melissa. She felt very nervous as he walked over to her slowly and she could feel all eyes in the room set on her. His face was kind, but the sadness had taken over the joy.

"Miss Morton. I have been looking forward to meeting you." he said softly.

"Mr President." She said respectfully and he took her hand before kissing her on both cheeks. He stood to his full height after and addressed them all.

"Please, sit everyone." Soap went to Melissa's side and guided her to one of the two long seated chairs while Price and Rook took the other. The President took the single armchair to the right.

"Now, I am sure you are wondering why I asked you here."

"Commander MacMillan said you wished to thank us in person for Ursa's capture." Price said and Vorshevsky smiled.

"Yes, but that is only part of my intentions. You all have my personal thanks, as well as that of the Russian people. We can all sleep at night knowing this devil in a woman's guise is behind bars."

"We were only doing our job, Mr President."

"Yes yes, but this is important. Ursa carried on her son's legacy and has taken hundreds of thousands of lives in the process. Stopping her has meant peace for the first time in who knows how long. I asked for you all to come here because I wish to repay you."

"You don't owe us anything, Mr President." Soap put in and Vorshevsky shook his head.

"But I do Major, I very much do. I wished to reward you after you rescued me and my daughter in Siberia, but the situation was still tumultuous at the time. Now the time is right. All four of you, for your service and excellent conduct, will be inducted as Heroes of the Russian Federation." Melissa's heart skipped a beat. The Hero of the Russian Federation medal was the highest Russian award available. "We have all suffered, some more than others," Vorshevsky looked at Melissa when he said this "and now is the time to put it behind us and start anew."

New Kremlin Armoury, the next evening, 1700 hours…

Melissa stared at her reflection as the makeup artists began to pack up. She was in a private salon of the Kremlin, getting prepped for the celebratory ball to commemorate Ursa's capture and the official end of the Ultranationalists hardliners. A lot had happened in the last 24 hours. She had confronted her greatest tormentor, gotten answers about her mother's death, was awarded Russia's highest honour and was now one of the guests of honour at one of the "balls of the century". Herself, Soap, Price and Rook were awarded the medals the previous evening in a private ceremony. Melissa smiled at the memory. She didn't really care for awards, but it was a reminder that she had lived – and won. There was a knock at the door and, much to Melissa's surprise, Vorshevsky entered, followed as usual by his entourage.

"Mr President." She quickly got up from her chair and faced him "I wasn't expecting you."

"No, my dear, I wished to surprise you." Vorshevsky kissed her cheeks in greeting "I wanted to speak with you, before the ball. Give us a moment." He said in Russian to her prep team and they were escorted out. He looked at her with a smile "You look beautiful."

"Thanks." She smiled timidly.

"I understand you have suffered much at the hands of your own flesh and blood, but try to enjoy yourself tonight. You made this happen." Vorshevsky put his hand up when he saw Melissa open her mouth to protest "You chased Ursa down in Egypt and brought her to her knees. I understand you were a key player on and off the battlefield that brought down the hard line regime. I thought I knew your brother, once. And I'm sorry I did. But I'll be forever grateful for meeting you." he took Melissa's hand and admired her engagement ring "And Major MacTavish is a very lucky man. You do not have long until the wedding?"

"It's now three months away. Time's gone by so quickly." Melissa smiled "I can't wait, but I'm so nervous."

"I understand." Vorshevsky chuckled "Believe me, your fiancé is probably worse. I actually came here to give you a wedding present."

"Oh, Mr President, that's not necessary -"

"Ah ah ah, but it is, Melissa. Every girl, especially you, deserves to feel like a princess on their wedding day. So, I want to loan you something that will give it the authentic touch." He snapped his fingers and one of the bodyguards came up, placing a black, heavy briefcase on the vanity. There was the snapping of locks and the lid opening, and Melissa's gasp. A small kokoshnik tiara sat amongst black velvet, glittering brilliantly in the light. It resembled a smaller version of one of the tiaras she saw the Queen of England wear from time to time at state events. The diamonds resembled delicate icicles as they stood and sparkled, row by row. "This tiara is over 150 years old. It was recently recovered in an Ultranationalist treasure house, where they stored their loot, similar to the one you found in Egypt." Melissa tried to speak and could feel her mouth moving, but no words were coming out "I think this would be perfect for you to wear."

"Mr President, I…I…I don't know what to say." Melissa stuttered and she heard him chuckle.

"You're welcome." He patted her shoulder and snapped his fingers again "This is for tonight." The tiara case was replaced by another one, and opening it revealed something else quite spectacular.

Two hours later, Price was straightening Rook's collar as they waited for Melissa to emerge from her suite. Soap checked the time. They would be on schedule if she came out in about five minutes, though he could care less about the ball. He would have much preferred him and Melissa, home alone to keep each other company. He would most likely be shouting at the soccer on the TV and she would be thumbing through another bridal magazine Connie had forced on her. Or they could be doing other things... He looked up the stairs when he heard voices and his breath hitched audibly. Melissa was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down on them. She was dressed in a dark navy gown that had a full skirt from the waist down, like what a princess would wear to the ball in fairy tales. Her hair was loosely swept back from her face, with a few choice strands falling away. Her eyes were lined in a cat's eye but other than that her makeup was neutral, and she had diamonds sparkling on her hands, wrist and ears. There was a bejewelled collar around her neck, sparkling in white and dark blue that tied everything together.

"Where can I get one of those?" Soap heard Rook say but he didn't pay him any mind as his fiancée descended the steps. She took his offered hand and he looked her up and down.

"You look amazing." He breathed and she smiled, placing a hand on his chest.

"You too. You know I love a man in uniform." She whispered slyly in his ear, making the blood whiz through his veins. Himself, Price and Rook were in their dress blues, with their new medals hanging from their chests'. Soap had placed his next to his Victoria Cross.

"Alright, if everyone is here we must get going!" their escort called, shattering the mood. Soap growled and Melissa giggled, taking his arm as they walked off to the ballroom through the halls.


	21. Chapter 21

One month later, Moscow…

"All rise for the verdict." The echoes of chairs scaping across the floor reverberated across the chamber. On the courtroom floor there was about twenty people – prosecutors, their assistants, the four judges from France, Australia, Britain and America, general court aides and the defence. But the focus of all the attention was on the lone figure standing on the defence side of the room, flanked by two burly guards that made her seem smaller and frailer. Ursa had estimated to have lost almost twenty kilograms due to stress while living in the prison compound next to the courts. She was pale, her hair was stringy, and there were dark circles around her eyes. The surgery she had taken years ago to alter her face now seemed undone. The chief justice, Sir Maurice "Murray" O'Connell from Australia, took off his glasses and stared Ursa down from his seat on the bench.

"There are few people in the world who we can say are truly evil – Hitler, bin Laden, Pol Pot, Vladimir Makarov – and you, Ursa Nikolaevna Makarov, are one of them. You enabled your son in his crimes, and soon took over in a class of your own. Hundreds of thousands of innocent people were killed over the past three years, all to carry on a lost legacy and a hopeless cause. Over the past three weeks, the court has heard of your atrocities and viewed the evidence of your crimes against humanity – the dungeons, the bombings and the genocide. The public has labelled you such things as the devil, and a soulless shell. As the court, we have the duty to be impartial to such labels – and the demands for your head on a spike. Before the verdict is delivered, do you have any words for the court?" All eyes turned to Ursa, who shook her head. She had remained silent throughout the three weeks of her trial and had showed little to no emotion through the proceedings – not even at the photos of the pile of bodies in a mass grave or the fiery aftermath of one of her bombings. Judge O'Connell put his glasses back on and took a piece of paper from his assistant. He licked his lips before opening his mouth and speaking in a loud, booming voice that echoed through the courtroom. "In the numerous charges of crimes against humanity, murder, deprivation of liberty, genocide, terrorism and complicity of terrorist acts, this court finds Ursa Nikolaevna Makarov…guilty of all counts." A loud murmur started, with some cheers and laughs from the public gallery which was silenced by the judges gavel "Order in the court! Ursa, this court sentences you to death for your crimes, which shall be carried out by firing squad. This court is adjourned." A loud cheer erupted from the public and the press, with people hugging each other and dancing. Ursa showed no emotion at her sentence as she was led away to the prison facilities by her guards while names were thrown at her.

In the private gallery on the second floor, a group of people left a secure viewing box escorted by several guards. Aleksey never let go of Melissa's hand as they were led out, followed by Levi, Mona, and Rhody Morton and Lorraine. Soap, Rook and Price took up the rear. Melissa glanced back to see her grandparent's glassy eyes, with her grandmother being supported by her uncle and grandfather.

"It is over, Melissa." she turned to look at her father's face. His eyes were glassy as he took out her mother's locket and opened it. Jane smiled back at him in the photo. "Your mother is now at peace. And so are we."

One week later, Ursa was executed in the grounds of the prison where she was being held. It was said that she was calm and composed, with a cold smile on her face until it was covered by the dark bag placed over her head. Her last words were to the captain of the firing squad, when he asked if she had a statement –

"Until we meet again, comrade."

Time of death was 0907 hours, June 18th, 2018.


	22. Chapter 22

A few weeks later, Hereford, Melissa's office…

Melissa tapped her tablet absent-mindedly as she worked on encryption files for MI6. Though Ursa was now gone, there was still work to be done catching the remaining Ultranationalist hardliners hiding around the world. Similar to the Nazi-hunters of times past, "hardliner hunters" were now scouring the globe looking for the last scumbags. The SAS rarely got involved unless it was a big fish, meaning 141 had only been out on one mission since Ursa's capture and execution. It was a quiet existence now for most of them, which was well appreciated. Trisha Price had promptly whisked her husband away on a week-long holiday to Australia, both of them coming back a little pinker but a lot happier. Rook had struck up a "friendship" with one of the bargirls at the local pub, a pretty brunette with a sunny disposition. Soap and Melissa were stronger than ever, and with the wedding now only weeks away, were making sure all the minute details were sorted. Connie was running around like a chicken with no head, barking orders down her phone every spare minute at the baker, the florist, the dressmaker, even the detail that was delivering the "gift" from President Vorshevsky. The woman feared no-one. Speak of the devil, Melissa's data stream was interrupted by Connie's face planted in the middle of the screen.

"Connie, I'm working!"

"So am I!" the other woman said defensively "I'm just double checking that you're still happy with the seating arrangements."

"You asked me that yesterday!"

"You can have second thoughts!"

"Yes! I am happy! But remember to make sure my cousin Natalie isn't sitting in eyesight of Matthew! She can really throw herself at the taken ones when she drinks too much."

"Like your uncle would let her do that." Connie snorted "Anything else?"

"No, I have to get this done by the end of the day. Bye!" she shut off the transmission before Connie could get a word in and sighed.

"I don't think Matthew would mind the attention." Melissa whirled around to see her smirking fiancé walking through the door "Let them have their fun."

"I'd prefer not to have my wedding ruined by drunken antics, thank you." she pouted and Soap chuckled.

"Mel, it's going to happen, one way or another." He said, placing his hands on her waist "Besides, what's a wedding without a few drunk relatives?"

"You haven't seen mine."

"And you haven't seen my grandfather after two pints. That man can't hold his liquor to save his life." Melissa sighed again "Come on, let's worry about it another time. There's a roast on today and Rook's going to eat the whole thing if we don't get there in time."

A few days later, ancient Mesopotamian dig site, Iraqi desert…

"Remind me again why _we _had to go?"

"Because we were asked to."

"Smart-ass."

"Melissa!"

"Sorry." She rolled her eyes as she hunched over a laptop. Intel had come in the day before about one of Ursa's favourite enforcers hiding out in the desert, and 141 was sent out to bring him in. Anatoly Fedorov was responsible for various massacres at Ursa and Vladimir's command, his favourite method being gas, creating some of the worst incidents since the Halabja chemical attack in Iraq itself. They had followed his trail to an abandoned archaeology site a few kilometres away from the north end of the Tigris river. Anatoly wasn't there, but his equipment was. "Blueprints, flight manifests, even old files from Fregata Industries. Everything's here."

"Which means he's coming back for it." Price stated "Be quick and download what we need."

"I'd shoot him just for what he did to this cave. Does he know he ran a satellite cable through a two-thousand year old fresco? That's history down the drain!" she exclaimed, pointing to a hole in the wall where a king's face used to be in a painting.

"Melissa!"

"Sorry!"

"I'm guessing she's nervous about the wedding?" Rook muttered under his breath and Soap nodded.

"Five weeks and she's practically counting down the minutes." Soap replied "Rook, take the east entrance, I'll stay here."

"Roger that." Rook cocked his weapon and was about to go to the corridor when they all froze at the sound of a rock being kicked away. Price was standing in the northern door, meaning…

"Grenade!" Soap roared, tackling Melissa to the ground and covering her with his body. Everyone else ducked for cover as it exploded with a loud, echoing BANG around the cavernous room. Luckily no-body was injured, having found a crate to hide behind, but there was no time to process the shock as 141 immediately tried to get to their feet to take down the Russians coming through the eastern corridor "Stay down!" Soap shouted at Melissa over the gunfire, seeing that she was in an awkward spot behind him that left her no room to get up. He aimed and fired, counting the enemies as they tried to emerge through the narrow corridor. One, two all the way to five. There was a ringing in Soap's ears after they stopped firing, thanks to the cavern acting like an echo chamber.

"Is that all of them?" Rook asked loudly, evidently hard of hearing.

"Ugh – NO!" Melissa cried and the world seemed to slow down. In their haste to gun down the enemies in the north corridor, 141 had left the east opening wide open, where Fedorov himself had tried to sneak up on them. Melissa stood and aimed, but was too slow "AAHH!"

"Drop him!" Price roared and Soap didn't need to be told twice, pumping more lead than necessary. The Russian went down messily and Soap immediately crawled over to Melissa's side. She was crying out, holding on to the outer side of her thigh. There was blood streaming, staining the dirt and rocks.

"Shit!" he swore, pulling the desert scarf from around his neck and pressing it against his fiancée's leg. He heard Price radio for assistance in the background but barely heard anything, keeping his eyes on Melissa's pained expression "Stay with me! Melissa! Stay with me!"

Camp Salaam, outside Baghdad, one hour later…

"Luckily it was only a graze."

"I wasn't about to let you off the wedding hook so easily, John." Melissa winked. Soap eyed the wound again. The bullet had gone through a crate, slowing its momentum and saving Melissa from a fatal injury. She had been patched up with a few stitches and some morphine and was now lying in one of the beds. One of the local women who volunteered in the kitchens was on Melissa's other side, carefully drawing a henna tattoo. When she had heard of the impending wedding, the woman had apparently rushed over to the medical tent and insisted on the henna as a "gift", as well as tradition for the bride to have the henna done before the nuptials. "Stop looking at it." Melissa's voice snapped him out of his daze and he took her hand, which was noticeably devoid of her ring, having left it at Hereford.

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. And if you keep apologizing for something that couldn't be helped I'll do something awful to you in your sleep."

"The morphine must be wearing off if you're getting cranky." He quipped and dodged a slap on the shoulder with a grin "I can't let this happen to you again." He said, immediately sobering the mood "I won't."

"You can't keep me in a cage, John." Melissa said firmly "We all have our jobs to do."

"But you don't have to get shot at in yours!" he said loudly, and rubbed his hand over his face "Or kidnapped, or tortured." The local woman quietly packed up her things and left the tent. Melissa took Soap's hand with her free one.

"It's been a rough year for both of us." she spoke quietly "I've made you worry, break things and cry, and I'm sorry for that. But we've managed to stick together through it, no matter what." She could see the tears glistening in his eyes and felt her own welling up "Trish told me, after I was rescued, that you'd never leave me alone. You've done so much more than that. You've loved me, protected me, and gave me a home. So for the love of God, stop blaming yourself."

"But -"

"Just. Stop." She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.


	23. Chapter 23

Five weeks later – August 5th, 2018

The day of the wedding, Glasgow, 0600 hours…

"Oh shit! Price! Pull it back!"

"On your feet, you hungover rump! We have a wedding to attend!"

"You drank just as much as me, old man." Soap grimaced as he sat up while Price pulled out his dress uniform and medals.

"Years of experience, son. Up, up!"

"Okay, okay, I'm up!" Soap insisted, running his hands over his head, still not used to the feeling of a crew cut. His mowhawk had been with him since he left boot camp.

"Get in the shower, shave and scrub. The barber will be here in ten minutes to do one last trim, then we have breakfast before we get decent. It's D-Day, go, go, go!"

"Connie's rubbed off on you!"

Melissa's suite, Governor's hotel…

"Okay, the dress is getting steamed, the flowers have arrived and the make-up ladies are here." Connie said as Melissa chewed the last of her oatmeal.

"How do you feel darling? Today's the day!" Lorraine smiled and Melissa shook her head.

"It almost doesn't seem real."

"Well, snap out of it because it is! Get her into the bathroom, we have primping to do!"

"I'll do that, just stand still." Price said as he straightened Soap's medals on his chest. He glanced at his protégé to see a nervous quiver in his brow.

"It'll all go according to plan, son." Price reassured, placing a hand on Soap's shoulder.

"I know." Soap replied "But this is the first time in a long time where I've felt the butterflies in my stomach." Price's lips quirked.

"That's normal. Alright – creases are sharp, medals are straight and clean. You're ready."

"Time to get married!" Rook chimed in, sticking his head in the door "The car's arrived!"

"You know you can back out of this, princess, just say the word." Levi said as Melissa ran her hands over the corset of her dress. They had a few minutes left until the car was due.

"Grandpa!"

"Just checking so you know." Levi turned as the door the opened. Three burly men and one woman followed Aleksey in, one of the men carrying a secure briefcase, handcuffed to his wrist.

"Miss Morton," the woman greeted in Russian and shook her hand "I am Elsa Dorokova, the President sends his best wishes."

"Thank you." Melissa watched as the man set down the case and unlocked the latch. Levi and Aleksey gasped when the contents were revealed. "Dad, can you get me the veil?" Aleksey scrambled to the other room, returning a second later with the veil. Melissa went to the mirror but Dorokova took the material off her.

"It's hard to do it backwards." She smiled and pinned the veil on top of her head. Once that was done, she called "Mik, the tiara." One of the guards gingerly took the tiara out of the case and brought it over, setting it on top of Melissa's head and making sure it was secure before stepping back. Melissa took in her reflection. Her dress conformed to her figure to a tee, with the beads making the flower pattern sparkle. Her make-up was natural, save the eyeliner, and her light brown hair was twisted into an elegant bun. The tiara glittered magnificently on her head.

"Today, my dear, you are tsaritsa." Aleksey proclaimed.

Cathedral, 1000 hours…

"Easy Soap." Price muttered quietly as Soap shifted on his feet. The last of the guests had filed in, filling the pews to the brim, and they were now waiting on the bride "She's -" Price was cut off by the organ announcing the bride's arrival. Soap felt like his heart was pounding and that his stomach was made of lead as the guests' stood. He glanced at his wedding party. His brother, Price and Rook stood as tall as him, and Price nodded once. Soap nodded back. He was ready. The bridal party came down the aisle first. Connie started the procession, dressed in a cream and lace confection, holding a small bouquet of peach roses. Trish followed her, then Melissa's cousin after that. At last, after the bridesmaids were in position, the bride appeared. Soap forgot how to breathe.

Melissa really was a princess, similar to the ones he was told stories about by his mother. Her corset was beaded in a flower pattern, flowing down to a full skirt. Even through her veil covering her face, he could see the tiara Vorshevsky had loaned her was glimmering in the low light. Both Levi and Aleksey were escorting her, one in his best suit and the other in his full dress uniform. They soon reached the altar and the two older men handed Melissa over. Once she was standing in front of him, Soap lifted the veil. Melissa smiled at him and he smiled back, taking her hand. Father McGovern opened his hands.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join in the sight of God, John Glenn MacTavish and Melissa Alekseyevna Morton, in holy matrimony…" the ceremony went on, with prayers and oaths being read before they got to the vows. Soap took a breath before he started. He could say his vows in his sleep he had read them over so much while trying to perfect them.

"Melissa, when I first laid eyes on you, you were broken. And so was I, underneath everything that I made myself out to be. You gave me a purpose that I had lost somewhere along the way. I promise to love you, be faithful to you, and to never leave you alone."

"John, you saved me, in every sense of the word. And that is a debt I can never repay. You are my light at the end of the tunnel, my rock I imagine when I close my eyes, and my love, who I will never live without. I promise to love you, to be faithful to you, and to be your rock, as you have been for me."

"If anyone has any objections as to why these two should not wed, speak now or forever hold your peace." Silence answered "The rings." Father McGovern commanded and they were handed over. "John, please repeat after me. I John Glenn MacTavish, shall have you Melissa, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, through better and worse, to cherish and be faithful, as long as we both shall live." The same process was repeated with Melissa and the priest opened his hands to the church.

"This ceremony and these vows have been witnessed by this flock, by God, and his Son Jesus Christ. By the power vested in me by the Pope and the Catholic Church, John, you may kiss your bride." Soap managed to stop grinning enough to kiss Melissa full on the mouth, wrapping his arms around her waist while hers went around his neck. The congregation cheered and the organ sounded. Soap wanted to stay in the moment longer but his lungs disagreed and he pulled away. Melissa was grinning like a schoolgirl "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Mr and Mrs John MacTavish!" Soap offered his arm and Melissa took it. They walked down the aisle to the entrance of the cathedral, where the car was waiting.

"Ready for a day to remember, Mrs MacTavish?" Soap asked with a suggestive smirk.

"Oh my God. I'm Mrs MacTavish!" Melissa cried "This is real!"

"You bet it is." He said as they walked out. An SAS guard of honour drew their swords to form an arch and the photographers snapped away as the couple emerged. "I love you. So much." He said quietly into her ear. She smiled at him.

"I love you too." They kissed again and the cameras went off, capturing the moment.

Royal Army Academy, Glasgow…

Melissa stepped out onto the balcony to escape the crowd. Everything had gone off without a hitch. The ceremony had been amazing, and the reception would be hard to forget. Her American relatives were already drunk after a couple of hours, and her father was disproving his age on the dance floor. Her first dance with Soap was perfect, and it was easier to move once the tiara had been returned. She really did feel like a princess who got her prince.

"There you are." She turned to see her husband. Husband. The word made her smile.

"Hey." She greeted and he kissed her, drawing it out for as long as he could.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked when they parted and she easily stepped into his embrace.

"I needed the air. I could get drunk off cousin Natalie's fumes."

"Hah." Soap snorted "She's the life of the party, that one."

"I can't believe we did it, John. I mean, really, got hitched. We're married."

"It'll take a few more goes of you saying it aloud before you believe it. I still can't." there was a pause before Melissa spoke again.

"I'll remember this day for a long time."

"So long as you stay with me for longer." Melissa looked up at him. Soap's blue eyes pierced right through her "Promise?"

"I promise. So long as you stay with me."

"As I wrote in my vows – I'll never leave you alone."


End file.
